The Phoenix Crisis
by xenokattz
Summary: Sequel to The Phoenix Alternative. Jason White's illness isn't the only crisis at Xavier's School of Gifted Children. Richard, Scott, Lois and Clark try to figure out what to do with their lives now.
1. Chapter 1

By three in the afternoon on the sixth of January, Jason Elliot White's temperature reached a hundred and seven degrees Fahrenheit. The doctors at DuPont Children's Hospital could not apply the usual antibiotics and anti-inflammatory drugs because of an extensive list of allergies given by the boy's family physician. He didn't have the muscle rigidity typical in hyperpyrexia, but his kidneys definitely showed signs of distress as did his strained heart. His blood tests all showed normal with the exception of his creatine kinase count which was dangerously high even for an adult. He showed photophobia and nuchal rigidity common in meningitis, however, repeated MRIs showed no evidence of cerebral oedema. He had no record of any autoimmune diseases but at this point, the doctors wanted to test for everything from AIDS to lupus. 

He was a very sick boy. Although this wasn't the first time Jason White came through the doors of Children's, his doctors were very much afraid that this would be the last.

* * *

Richard White clutched his twelfth cup of coffee, no longer tasting anything but the coppery flavour of his own blood from where he'd bitten through his lips. He drank coffee for the lack of anything else to do; his brain didn't want to function at any level any more, because coherance would mean thinking about his son who was in that room hooked up to machines, convulsing and... 

Richard went for a thirteenth cup.

Across from him was Lois Lane; Jason's mother, formerly his fiancée, and currently his housemate. She'd run out of doctors to interrogate and the nurses gave her a wide-berth after one of their well-meaning, if slightly dim, members suggested a sedative. The said member was sent home after a barrage of wounding remarks from Ms. Lane. She prowled the perimeter of the waiting room, having been barred from the rest of the hospital after she'd all but assaulted a passing doctor for information on her son.

Richard knew how to read Lois' mask. She was never brasher than when she was frightened out of her wits.

Clark Kent, Lois' writing partner and someone Richard counted as a friend until recently, stood near the entrance of the private waiting room. His slouch was more pronounced than usual, his bright blue eyes gone icy. He stared at the wall as though willing it to go transparent.

That was probably what he was doing, Richard surmised. Just using his X-ray vision to look through all the walls and staring at what the doctors were doing to his son. Richard's son who was biologically Clark's son who was really Superman, Metropolis' favourite citizen, who could launch a small continent into outer space but couldn't stamp out the mysterious tiny invader attacking Jason's body.

There was a fourth person in the room; in spirit if not in body. At least not his own body. Scott Summers found himself acting as a silent counsellor as he milled around in Richard White's head, repeating the useless proverbs that he himself heard when his fiancée died. He hated the words but he had nothing else to give his host body.

Except...

Scott pushed against Richard's mind.

Richard's vision went yellow. "Not now," he groaned, squeezing the bridge of his nose.

_It's important,_ Scott said.

Clenching his eyes, Richard thought as forcefully as he could. _Nothing could possibly be more important right now._

_What about a doctor that might be able to help?_

_What the hell are you talking about?_

_I think I know someone that might be able to help,_ Scott said. _A doctor who specialises in mutant DNA._

_Jason isn't a mutant._

"Is that what this is?" Lois asked. "Did someone say he might be a mutant?"

_Dammit_. Richard didn't realise he'd spoken aloud. "No. I just... was thinking aloud." He glanced at Clark who had straightened a little from his slouch.

"Hmph." Lois tapped her finger rapidly against her arm rest. "I'm going to get a doctor to check."

"Lois--" Clark started to intervene but Richard shook his head.

"Leave her alone," he said after she left the room. "Chasing after her's never helped."

Uncertainty flashed across Clark's face but he stayed in the end. "What were you saying about mutants?"

"Nothing," Richard said.

"Is it...?" Clark tapped his temple.

Strange how just yesterday, Richard's life was a normal kind of messed up: a broken engagement, a son on the verge of middle school with all its joys and headaches, and a mental condition from a burst brain aneurysm. In less than twenty-four hours, he'd turned into a bad sci-fi plot. His ex-fiancée's partner was Superman, his hallucination was really another man's ghost living in his brain, and his son was so goddamn sick.

Jason...

_Who is this doctor?_ Richard asked Scott.

* * *

Every atom of Clark's body wanted to get away. Superman couldn't save anyone in a hospital, his logic told him. He'd be better off answering the call of that burglar alarm across town or that drive-by shooting on the other side of the state, or even intervening in a pub across the ocean on the verge of breaking out into a racial gang fight. But Clark's heart fought it. He had a right to be selfish about this. Even Jor-El abandoned his precious council when his child's life was at stake. 

_Jason._

_Oh, God, Jason._

Across from him, Richard White inhaled yet another cup of coffee. The man had a cast-iron stomach. Or perhaps more accurately, his body numbed any pain that could have been caused by the less-than-stellar food available in the hospital in the middle of the night.

Strange how just a week ago, he was one of the few men that Superman disliked. Clark Kent appreciated his friendliness but Superman seethed every time Jason wistfully recalled how his daddy used to take him flying every weekend, or how his daddy was the only one who woke up early just to watch TV with him. Richard had had everything that Superman wanted but he threw it out.

On the other hand, Superman had had everything Superman wanted and he threw it out as well. So maybe they weren't that different. Maybe that person in Richard's head changed him for the worse.

Clark sighed. On the third hand, a malicious ghost wouldn't have given Superman relationship advice either.

"You don't have to be here," said Richard.

For a second Clark wanted to say "Where else would I be?" then he remembered that Lois thought Clark Kent was just visiting Richard for a guy's night out when Jason took a turn for the worse. She didn't know that Richard knew who he was.

"I don't mind," said Clark.

"I mean it," he said. "I'll take care of them while you're gone."

And that, Clark reflected, was a major hitch in his goal to get Lois back. Richard had taken care of Lois and Jason while he was looking for Krypton, he looked after them while he had to save Metropolis, and he looked after them during those first two years back when Superman juggled the duties of a father and a guardian to the world. And, most importantly, Richard didn't have to share himself with the rest of the world.

"I want to be here," Clark insisted.

Richard shrugged and went to get more coffee.

One thing was clear: psychic symbiote or not, Richard loved Jason. It was obvious in the way his heart hadn't stopped its rapid beating, in how aged he looked when the on-going joke at the office was that Richard was going to be the crush of every high school intern who passed through the Planet's doors. Clark didn't know what his chances were of getting Lois back but he didn't want a good man like Richard to be hurt.

* * *

More than anything in the world, Lois hated being in the dark. She hated that everyone who worked in this hospital knew more than she did about her son's condition. She hated the medical terminology and the machines and the scribbled notes on the clipboards which meant absolutely nothing to her. She hated how people rushed in and out of those double doors without a glance to even give a hint about who they were rushing in and out of. She hated the guardedly fearful expression on Clark's face. She hated how Richard looked the same. Most of all, she hated that damned _thing_ that put her baby here. 

She returned empty handed only to find Richard secretively speaking on the phone. "Dr. McCoy, this is Richard White. I've been told you have a medical background with mutants."

"Mutants?" Lois mouthed. "What about mutants?"

He gave her a "don't worry about it" gesture and turned his back. Lois' eyes narrowed.

"What's going on?" she asked Clark.

He shrugged, keeping his eyes fixed to the floor. God, it was like being trapped between a cliff and a brick wall! Lois threw her hands up and settled on eavesdropping.

"I was wondering if you... that is, if you aren't too busy to..." Richard let out a quiet hiss that may have been rather profane before continuing, his sentence breaking near the end. "My son is very, very sick. Please, can you come down here to take a look at him?"

With his cell phone tucked away, Lois could finally ask questions. "Who was that?"

"Just someone I heard about while I was doing a piece," Richard threw over his shoulder as he worshipped at the coffee machine again.

Within half an hour, two new people pushed through the waiting room: one was an Asian woman with brilliantly dyed violet hair who was so put together, she made Lois feel every one of the twenty-four hours she'd spent worried. Her partner was even more fantastic: almost six feet tall and at least four feet across, his muscles packed into a custom-made suit and his whole body covered in bright blue fur.

"Ladies and gentlemen." He nodded to the doctors and nurses. "I'm Dr. McCoy of the--"

To Lois' surprise, Richard strode up to the big blue doctor and took his hand in a firm clasp. "Hank, thank God! I wasn't sure if the school could get you on such short notice."

"Erm, yes, as it happens, I was at the school." Dr. McCoy stared at him as confused as Lois felt. "I'm sorry, but have we met?"

Embarrassed by his initial enthusiasm, Richard backed off, crossing his arms. As soon as he did that, Dr. McCoy went a little grey. "Oh, my stars and garters."

Seeing a lull, Lois jumped in. "Dr. McCoy, I'm Jason's mom."

"Mrs. White, yes." Distractedly, he turned to her and bared his teeth, his two upper incisors gleaming. His dentist must be so happy about that; Lois, not so much. She hoped that was a smile. "I promise you, I will do everything I can for him. My associate, Elizabeth, will be aiding me."

Elizabeth shook Lois' hand. "Elizabeth Braddock. Yes, the hair is really this colour and no, it has nothing to do with my mutation."

"Please lead the way and tell me about the boy," the doctor told the closest person in scrubs.

A doctor with the ID tag, "Cameron" gave him a file and ran through the case so far. "We would have started testing for mutation if we knew what we were looking for," she said as they disappeared into the double doors and once again, Lois was left in the dark.

_Jason._

_Oh, God, Jason._

She needed a cigarette. She'd run out of people to call and information to google. How the hell did you google kryptonian-human hybrids anyway? All she ever found was how popular hybrids were in turn-of-the-century zoos or essays about evolution or the different coat patterns on a liger versus a tigon.

What the hell was going on in there?

_Please, give me something. Anything. Talk to me. What's happening to my baby?_

Waiting was the worst part. Waiting with nothing to do but worry.

An hour passed before the double doors swung open again. Dr. McCoy lumbered out, murmuring to a sheaf of papers and a nurse who officiously recorded his words in a clipboard pad. Lois was at his side in an instant.

"Is Jason okay?" she asked. "What can we do?"

The doctor slowly reached out a hand--paw?-- and patted her shoulder. His hand was heavy but warm and Lois couldn't help but get an impression of a gigantic teddy bear especially when he spoke in that rumbling voice. "Jason is all right for now, Mrs. White."

"Lane," she corrected automatically.

"My apologies." He waved to a door behind the nurses' station. "Dr. Cameron has been kind enough to lend me her room for a moment. If you'd like to step in?" He looked up at Richard and Clark, obviously unsure of whom else to invite.

"I'll go and, uh, water your plants," Clark stuttered. "Um, if you need anything..."

"We'll call," Richard said. His lips moved a little afterward but Lois couldn't catch the words.

Lois accepted the proffered seat in the office. Richard stood uncertainly near the chair, made movements to sit, straightened then finally sat down with a short growl. The doctor went around the other side of the table, took one look at the tiny swivel chair, and opted to stand.

"As I said before, my name is Henry McCoy," he said, his voice still a low-pitched rumbling, but with a soothing note. "I specialise in mutant genetics as well as emergency medicine."

"My son's not a mutant," Lois said. Then, realising her blunt wording might not go over well with the nice mutant doctor, she added, "It's not a bad thing to be a mutant; I just know he isn't. Jason's problem is... something different."

He looked at her, his blue eyes searching. "I would like to add that as a doctor, I can promise you complete confidentiality. As you can probably surmise, my patients are mainly mutants, many of whom do not want to be outed as such. Whatever you tell me, I will not tell a soul."

Lois bit her lip. It wasn't her secret to tell. Even though their relationship had fallen apart, she'd promised Superman that she'd keep Jason's paternity a secret to keep their son safe. But now that very secret was threatening his life.

Oh God, her baby.

Lois opened her mouth--

"I'm his father."

-- and left it open in shock. Papers flew and picture frames shivered as Superman zipped into the tiny room, his stature making it appear even smaller. Lois might have imagined it but the cape seemed to reach out to her, briefly caressing her shoulder before it settled heavily down his shoulders.

To his credit, McCoy only blinked. "I see." He adjusted his glasses and sat back. "Oh, I see indeed. This does complicate matters quite a bit."

"I'll give you whatever you need," said Superman. "Whatever is in my power."

"Of course," said McCoy. "But this does bring up the issue of the DNA tests I've ordered from the laboratory. I don't think I would be wrong in assuming that you would not want that information to be public?"

"Yes," Lois said.

"Very well then, consider them gone." McCoy leaned back on his chair, closed his eyes and just sat there for a few seconds. When he opened his eyes again, he said, "That's taken care of. We can--"

"What did you do?" asked Lois.

"He contacted someone telepathically," Richard said, surprising Lois again and this time, McCoy and Superman as well. "Well, it seemed the likeliest answer," he said in reply to their inquiring looks.

McCoy didn't confirm or deny the statement. "My practice is in upstate New York," he said. "It contains a fully functional lab as well as a medical clinic. Since ninety percent of mutations catalyze during puberty, we have extensive experience in adolescent paediatrics. I would suggest moving Jason there for some time until we can discover a treatment for his condition."

"What _is_ his problem?" Lois asked. If she could only have information, she wouldn't be helpless.

"My hypothesis-- and please take note that this is just an educated guess at this point because of the lack of genetic information-- is that his body is reacting to the complications inherent in hybrid DNA," McCoy said. "I've seen from his file that he's had a history of health concerns."

"But he was growing out of them," Richard interrupted.

"That may have been the case but he's now going through puberty in addition to various psychological pressures in his environment."

Lois got up, affronted. "Hey, we're doing or best to keep his environment as good as possible and I don't think you--"

"Lois," Richard took her hand, one of the few times in the past few years where he'd touched her voluntarily. "Sit down."

"--have any business insinuating that we'd--" She was starting to yell. She knew she was starting to yell but she couldn't seem to stop herself. It was yelling or crying and she refused to cry in public.

Superman held a hand out, placating. "Lois."

"This is your fault!" she snarled, jabbing a finger at Superman. "Your goddamned DNA is messing with everything! With his allergies and his pneumonia, and with every bout of the flu where we thought his lungs were going to-- and you weren't _there_! You weren't... Oh, God, and now Jason's..." She almost collapsed but she gripped the chair and forced the weakness out of her body.

"I'm sorry," said Superman, quietly. So quietly that Lois knew the words were directed at her ears only.

McCoy, who'd been keeping his gaze politely in the medical file, spoke up. "This is no one's fault any more than having brown hair or green eyes or blue fur. I will leave the decision up to you on whether or not to come to my clinic, but I encourage you to make your decision by the end of the day. My colleague and I can stay until then but, unfortunately, we have other commitments that we couldn't reschedule and quite frankly, the faster we can get those test results, the faster we can decide on a treatment."

* * *

In the end, it was a no-brainer really. Jason was strapped to a stretcher and loaded up in Hank's chopper with his IV. Lois and Richard followed right beside them carried by Superman. It was weird hanging piggy-back to him but Richard couldn't care less about dignity at the moment. He would have hung onto chopper's landing skids if it meant he could be with Jason. 

_Tell me more about Hank McCoy,_ he told Scott to keep his mind busy. _How good is he?_

_He's one of the best doctors in mutant physiology,_ Scott replied. _He's got a degree in almost everything you can get a degree in and plays a wicked tackle football._

_You know him personally?_A second later, Richard nodded as he made the connections_. He's part of that school where you teach._

_Actually, the last time we got in touch, he was Secretary of Mutant Affairs in DC._

Richard searched his memory banks. _I only know him from his appointment to the UN for a few years ago. I don't remember anything about his retirement--_

_You were a little busy at the time._

Richard nodded silently even though he knew the action was wasted. _So he can find a cure for Jason?_

_If there's a cure, he can find it or find someone who can._

_If_ there was a cure? Richard didn't like the sound of that.

They arrived at Xavier's by six in the evening. The estate was huge, larger than Richard's own family spread. Property taxes must have been a headache, not to mention lawn care.

_We have horses,_ Scott said.

Of course they did.

The helicopter landed right in front of the school on the circular driveway. A few kids ran up to the edge of the asphalt, obviously curious about the guests. Their jaws dropped when they saw Superman land beside it.

"Thanks," Richard felt compelled to say when his ride let him down. Superman just nodded.

The eldest of the kids-- a boy with dark, curly hair-- ran to the chopper doors as soon as they opened.

_Artie_? Richard heard Scott say. He felt the other man's shock as images of a very young version of the boy flashed through his head. In Scott's mind, Artie was no older than Jason.

_How long have you been gone?_

_I... I don't know. I... Jean said... well, actually she never really confirmed anything, did she? Dammit._

Richard was pretty sure he wasn't supposed to hear some of those thoughts.

Elizabeth Braddock descended first, smiling quickly at Artie. "Is everything ready?"

The boy nodded and for a little while, the two of them just stood there staring at each other while Dr. McCoy and Superman lifted Jason's stretcher out. Finally, Artie signalled to the other kids who ran back into the main building yelling at the top of their lungs.

Richard let Scott lead the way to the clinic, too tired mentally and physically to care about how uncanny it was to walk through this place. It was like an extended bout of déja vu-- the dark panelled hallways, the mullioned windows at the top of a double staircase, the kids swarming the rooms. There were a few differences though: couches that Scott had never seen before, floor-length curtains, a bulletin board in the main entrance.

And the kids. He'd never seen these kids before.

"Mr. White, Ms. Lane."

Richard-Scott spun around. Scott faltered a little.

A woman-- Ororo, Scott supplied-- drove a wheelchair down the hall. Although her hair was completely white, she didn't look older than Richard himself.

_A wheelchair?_ Scott said. _What the hell-_-

Richard shook the excess confusion away and held his hand out to her. Her handshake was firm and dry, all business, but her face-- she looked like Scott felt.

"I'm sorry for staring," she said, finally releasing Richard's hand. "You... you resemble a very dear friend of ours. I'm very pleased to meet you both. And you too, Superman, although I wish there had been better circumstances. Hank will take Jason to the medlab downstairs; it is his domain after all and his assistant will take good care of him. Why don't we go to my office; I'm sure we have plenty to talk about."

"'Ro," Scott burst out.

The woman was taken aback. "Yes?"

"Ro, what the... where's the professor? Why is Hank in charge of the medlab? Where the hell is Jean?" Once Scott started talking, Richard couldn't make him shut up. His own panic added to Scott's. "What are you doing in a wheelchair?"

This time, Lois joined in the gaping. "Richard, do you know these people?"

"No," said Richard. "Yes," Scott said soon afterward.

"It's complicated," Richard, Scott, and Superman all chorused.

"All the more reason to go to my office." Ororo gestured to a long line of doors behind her to the double doors edged with tinted, patterned glass. In Scott's memories, this was Professor Xavier's office but it now had a plate proclaiming "Ororo Munroe, Headmaster" on a discrete brass panel.

Feeling like a very lost White Rabbit going down a spiralling rabbit hole, Richard-Scott followed.

* * *

Lois stared at the rich furnishings in Munroe's office. She was no expert but it didn't take a PhD to figure that it would take Ivy League tuition fees to have an office like this. Leather-bound books lined one wall while the rest were covered in a jungle of ferns, orchids, and various other green things that were so healthy they could probably move under their own power. 

"Please have a seat," Munroe said as she wheeled around to the other side of a heavy oak table. "Can I offer some water or perhaps, lemonade? Tea or coffee?"

"Coffee," Richard said quickly. "Bring the pot and don't spare--"

"-- don't spare the grinds," Munroe ended quietly. She stared at him, searching. Truth be told, Lois didn't blame her. Richard had been acting strangely since his hospitalization but Lois had put that down to minor brain damage. "I think," said Munroe, "that it would be best if I tell you about our school, the services we provide and our mandate. Hopefully, you will be more at ease after my spiel."

"I could hardly be more uncomfortable," said Lois.

Munroe dipped her chin, a serene smile on her lips. She could be frighteningly Zen, Lois realised.

"Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters began thirty years ago as a mentoring program for the growing number of mutants. Our founder, Charles Xavier, wanted to help mutants control their gifts in order to live as normal citizens and perhaps use their talents to help society. He had already been giving one-on-one guidance to a number of gifted children, but thought an environment where they would be surrounded by peers, by other mutants, would be beneficial to their growth and training. Mutation, you see, is highly connected to emotional and mental well-being as well as genetics. Over the years, we have grown in response to demand and provide not only education but a safe haven for those who have nowhere else to go."

"What of the terrorist rumours?" asked Superman.

Munroe's crossed fingers showed white knuckles for a moment. "We are a school, first and foremost. We do have a group that trains for self-defence but only because in some instances, we have to rescue our students from unpleasant situations."

"There was the Alcatraz incident six years ago," Lois said. "Reports came in from bystanders about a white-haired African-American who could fly."

She had to hand it to Munroe; she knew how to keep her face. "And did your sources happen to mention what this person was doing?"

"Aiding the army," Lois admitted.

"Not all mutants agree with our dream of co-existence," said Munroe. "There are a few factions who believe in mutant superiority. Others believe that the only way to co-exist is to have a separate mutant state, by choice or by force. There are humans who see mutants as a threat and those who see us as a step-down in evolution. And of course, there are those who would seek to be rid of mutants altogether."

She cleared her throat to speak again but a knock interrupted her. "It's me, darlin'."

"Come in, Logan."

The door opened to receive the helicopter pilot, a scruffy, muscular man with impressive mutton-shops. He pushed in a tea service, the delicate birds-eye maple and jade-glazed ceramics out of place with his appearance. Lois wondered what his role was in this place. Chauffeurs didn't have that menacing air unless they doubled as bodyguards. And if he was a bodyguard, who did he work for?

Closing the door behind him, Logan slid the tea cart between Richard's chair and hers, giving Superman a cursory glance. The lower part of the uniform seemed to amuse him the most. "Hank wanted me to tell the kid's folks that he's all settled in."

"How is he?" asked Richard.

"He isn't getting better," Logan answered. "But he's not getting worse either." He exchanged a look with Munroe, one that Lois recognized easily because she shared the exact same type of looks with both Clark and Richard. They were communicating in the way that only very close partners or lovers could.

Whatever the conversation, Logan settled behind Munroe's chair, resting a hand familiarly on the back of her wheelchair. Lovers, Lois quickly decided. You couldn't mistake that proprietary air the man had for Munroe: warning the other males away but confident in his position at the same time.

"What I will say now must not leave these grounds," continued Munroe. "It is for the safety of the students and the staff." She looked up at Superman. "If anyone were to discover some of this school's... extracurricular activities, they would shut us down at best and destroy us at worst."

"Destroy?" Superman repeated, one brow rising slightly.

"They've done it before," Logan said, his words sounding more like a growl. "You think we have reinforced, bullet-proof windows because we ran out of home reno ideas?"

"Bullet-proof windows?" This time Lois was the one repeating. "My god, what _is_ this place?"

"It is a school," Munroe said firmly. "But sometimes, we are also something else." Logan gave her shoulders a quick squeeze. "Have you ever heard of the X-Men?"

* * *

**Medicalese translations**  
_hyperpyrexia_: exceptionally high fever  
_creatine kinase_: enzymes found in skeletal and myocardial muscle and the brain; typically occur in elevated levels in the blood following injury to brain or muscle tissue  
_photophobi_a: intolerance or painful reaction to light  
_nuchal rigidity_: rigidity in the neck, typically found in very high fevers, especially in cases of meningitis.  
_cerebral oedema_: excess fluid in the brain 


	2. Chapter 2

By all accounts, Clark should have been appalled. There was enough equipment in the sub-basements of this school to warrant the government's concerns. The entire first sub-basement contained a training area worthy of West Point with a hard-light holographic gym, a fully equipped clinic/laboratory, and something called Cerebro which could apparently find mutants all over the world. The second sub-basement had two large rooms full of emergency rations, and an airplane hanger with an SR-71 Blackbird. Last time Clark checked, those weren't available outside of the military. 

Half a dozen kids in Kevlar uniforms exited the hard-light gym, sweaty with exertion. Their instructor, a young woman with a white streak through her hair, was writing something on an electronic pad. She nodded at the four of them, her eyebrows rising with Superman's approach.

"Anything I can help with, Storm?"

"We have everything in hand, thank you, Rogue." She turned to them. "Rogue, this is Lois, Richard, and Superman. They will be staying with us while Jason White recovers in the med lab."

The young lady stuck her hand out. "Pleased to meet you." Upon reaching Richard, she faltered, her mouth gaping a little. "Uh, sorry," she said recovering slightly. "You just look like one of the people who used to teach here."

Richard only smiled tightly. He hadn't lost that shell-shocked expression, Clark noted. He was pretty sure the person in Richard's head was the teacher everyone was talking about around here; after all, it had been that person's idea to call Hank McCoy. Which led to Clark's primary question: if that man was in Richard's body, where was the man's body? He hadn't seen it in the medlab but they could just be keeping him in a different room. If he _was_ being kept in a different room, was it for extended care (because goodness knows the school had the equipment for it) or for safety concerns?

The pit of Clark's stomach shivered slightly.

While he didn't have any bad feelings about this school, he couldn't say the same about the person in Richard's mind. Richard was a good friend, at least, as good a friend that he could be considering everything Clark had kept from him so far. He didn't want him hurt by this other entity.

As he contemplated this, Ms. Munroe and her companion led their small group back into the medlab. Dr. McCoy hunched over a microscope while a woman that was presumably his assistant stood beside Jason, making notations on the EEG machine. She stroked his forehead for a moment before moving on to the IV, the respirator, and a dozen other monitoring devices.

Six long years ago, when he'd overheard Lois say that she didn't love him, Clark thought nothing would hurt more. Now seeing Jason, still so tiny and thin, drowning amidst tubes, needles, and electronics, Clark truly felt his heart break.

Dr. McCoy lifted a claw upon hearing their approach. "I will be with you in a moment," he said, not looking up from the microscope.

"Finish whatever you need to, Hank," said Ms. Munroe. She spun her chair around to face them. "I've shown all of this for a reason."

"You want a quid pro quo," said Richard. "You show us your secrets and we'll show you ours."

"And depending on what you hear, you'll treat Jason," Lois ended.

Clark heard Logan's heart rate increase and felt his temperature spike. This time, it was Ms. Munroe who squeezed his hand.

"We would do no such thing," she said, in the same even tone. "Hank is a licensed doctor and has taken the Hippocratic Oath. We would treat Jason even if you told us no more than you already have. I showed you this to offer you some security in revealing your secrets to Hank." As she turned to head towards Jason, her calm façade wobbled. "I will leave you now to speak privately with him. Annie?"

"On my way out," said the nurse. As she passed by Lois, she patted her arm. "He's a lovely boy. We're going to do everything we can for him."

"Thanks," said Lois and, in case the nurse got offended by her curtness, she softened it with a smile.

Dr. McCoy spoke as he came out from behind the microscope. "Now, I realise that you--" he nodded to Clark-- "have very sensitive hearing as well other pressing duties. Perhaps if we were to speak first and leave Lois and Richard to comfort Jason for a while?"

Clark nodded and followed the big blue doctor to a room adjoining the lab. Everything there was oversized to fit the doctor's hefty frame. What he didn't expect was the huge mess. Books piled in tottering towers, some with sheets of papers sticking out from between the leaves. Boxes full of files created a small maze around the desk. The trashcan overflowed with candy wrappers.

A little sheepishly, the doctor swung up to the ceiling and, using his feet to clutch some overhead handholds, he hung upside-down to clear a chair and a small spot on the desk. "A common failing for most doctors, I'm afraid," he said. "Much like our writing, our sense of organization leaves much to be desired. Rumour has it that both the writing and the organization are a learned skill intended to decrease the possibility of forgery or some such but really, we're just too brain-dead after a day at work to clean up."

Clark nodded. He could appreciate that. His own apartment frequently sent his mom into fits.

"So, let us begin." said Dr. McCoy.

Clark began. Starting from the destruction of Krypton.

* * *

It had been so long since he spent this much time with Jason what with his overseas work and his part-time editor job at the Planet. Every time he came back from an assignment, Jason was taller and more angular. If he squinted, Richard could still see the big-eyed, shaggy-haired puppy that his son used to be but, God, eleven years old came too quickly. He wasn't ready to send Jason to middle school. 

He wanted to sit beside him to hold his hand and tell him that Daddy was here and wouldn't let anything else happen to him but Scott was too agitated.

_Stop it!_ Richard told him after the fifth attempt to sit down.

_Sorry,_ Scott said and retreated to the back of Richard's consciousness. That suited Richard just fine; he didn't want anyone eavesdropping on something this private, no matter that the man had been privy to his life for the past six years.

Lois sat on the other side of the bed, stroking Jason's hand. "Hey there, tough guy," she cooed. "You took a helicopter ride here, isn't that neat? They're a lot scarier than planes but you were so brave, wasn't he, Richard?"

"You beat me," Richard said promptly. "I was shaking the whole flight here. Of course, you got a cool bed to ride unlike Mom and me."

Cautiously, Lois smiled at him, her long lashes keeping her tears back. She had a few grey hairs, Richard noticed with start. Not enough to be visible, but a couple strands winking metallically under the lights. Had that much time passed?

He reached out for her hand. Even stranger, she permitted it without remark. It still felt comfortable, still felt right.

"We're in a very special hospital," Lois was saying, "It's just for kids like you. Kids who can do all sorts of super things. When you get out of here, you can compare with them. I saw one boy who was bright green and another who had red wings." She stroked Jason's forehead. "You know what else is cool about this place? There's a school upstairs that helps those kids with superpowers. See? You're not so different after all, huh? It just took us a long time to find the right school."

Then, without changing her tone, she addressed Richard. "I want to tell you something."

Richard leaned forward. "Yeah?"

"I think Clark is Superman."

He nearly fell off his chair. There was Clark, angsting about how he would reveal his secret and all this time, Lois knew?

Wryly, she said, "I know, huh? Meek, mild-mannered Clark Kent is the world's greatest hero. I know it sounds insane but... it makes so much sense."

"How do you figure?" Richard asked.

"I've been around the guy for almost ten years," Lois said in a dry tone. "I'd have to be a special kind of stupid not to notice that he's never around when Superman is. Or that he looks exactly like him without the glasses."

His petting slowed. "Have you always known this?"

"No," she admitted. "I suspected it a couple years after he came back but I wasn't sure until four years ago."

"When you broke up with me," Richard said, slowly putting pieces of the puzzle together.

"If I'd known that in the end he'd just... Let's just say I collect bad moves," Lois admitted. "I am the Bad Move Queen." She sniffled, wiping her nose with the back of her hand.

Richard gave her a handkerchief. "Does he know that you know?"

"Sometimes I think he might. Sometimes he's so good at hiding that I start thinking I'm insane." Laughing cynically at herself, she returned to stroking Jason's forehead. It didn't pass Richard's notice that she did not extract her hand from his.

For a while, there was nothing but the monotonous beep of the machines and the hiss of the respirator. "Remember when he was born?" asked Richard, half-talking to himself.

"He had so much hair," Lois said. "I knew there was a reason my stomach was itchy all the time. You thought it was something deadly and spent all that time in the library researching fatal rashes."

"Hey, I got a good article out of that research."

They laughed. It felt good to laugh together like this again.

"I remember thinking that I could handle anything after that first year," said Lois. "What are terrorists and crooked politicians compared to a colicky baby who's allergic to every colic remedy on the market?"

"Oh, God, that stupid colic! And to think we were so happy when he got off the respirator and started vocalising."

"The joy lasted all of four days."

"Remember the week when we were so afraid to feed him anything that we subsisted on water and flatbread?"

"I will not eat pita to this day."

"I know."

Lois looked up at him. Richard met her eyes. He wanted to tell her now that he loved her, that he'd never stopped loving her, not despite her faults but because of them, all two dozen rough-edged shields that she used to keep the world at bay but let him in. He wanted to say that those five years they had together were some of the best years of his life and he knew she felt the same and his greatest regret was letting it all go in the name of chivalry.

She finally released his hand, only to lay it on his cheek. "I know," she echoed.

* * *

If he concentrated, Scott could block out almost everything "Richard" with the exception of highly volatile emotions and the memories that triggered them. Living with telepaths-- two of them very powerful and constantly present-- helped Scott create a natural barrier against psychic intrusion. He also took lessons from both the professor and Jean about safe-guarding his mind against telepathic assaults. Thankfully, the mind was made of very pliable material; whatever you could imagine could happen. When he first realised he was trapped in Richard's body, Scott used those lessons to make himself a "room." This was for his benefit and Richard's; he certainly didn't want to be around when his host body did something private nor did he want his own secrets floating around in Richard's head. 

He closed himself in his "room" now, sensing that Richard wouldn't welcome his presence at that moment. So many things had changed at the school. Jean told him that time had passed but hearing about it and knowing it were two entirely different entities. She hadn't filled him in on everything either. Like where was the Professor? Charles had been making noises about retiring from the headmaster position but Ororo was the last person Scott would have expected to take his place. Not because she wasn't competent; far from it. He'd always thought she would be a better over-all leader because she had an in-born empathy that he had always struggled with. But Ororo was like Wolverine in a way, half-wild and uncomfortable with being indoors too long. That was why she taught in the solarium.

And what was Hank doing back? He was glad; the older man had helped Scott through the worst of freshman and sophomore year in college but he'd been making great progress in DC. He gathered from Richard's memories that Hank had been sent to the UN as the American representative. He hadn't practiced medicine in years and now he was the school doctor? Where was Jean?

That, Scott admitted, was the crux of his problem. He had to find Jean. If Jean stuck him in this body, Jean could take him out.

Richard's emotions pulsed against Scott's make-shift mental walls. Colours and sounds leaked in, ghosts of memories that pulled at his own emotions. It was like hearing a television two rooms away. Selfishly, Scott tasted the passing thoughts. He knew that flavour. He felt the same about Jean.

Suddenly, the memories whipped away and Richard's consciousness knocked. _You in there, Scott?_

_Yeah, what's up?_

_It's our turn to talk to McCoy,_ said Richard.

_Oh, sure._

Looking through Richard's eyes would never get old. To see real colour after almost ten years of an orange or yellow tinted palette was like tasting a full range of flavours. Scott didn't know if Hank had always been that brilliant a shade of blue; he'd always seen the older man as a murky purple. At the same time, he missed his kinaesthetic sense. Richard's body was always a touch too slow, saw things a touch too late which aggravated Scott to no end.

"Mr. White." Hank shook Richard's hand cautiously keeping his claws retracted instead of using the hand-crushing grip he gave old friends.

"Call me Richard," Scott's host body said as he sat down. "Mr. White is my uncle."

"Richard it is. And you must call me Henry."

_Hank_. Scott stubbornly said.

Richard gave him a mental poke. The guy had picked up on the finer points of telepathy really quickly.

"Before we start," said Richard, "I want to ask you about someone. You had a teacher on staff a few years ago by the name of Scott Summers. Where is he now?"

Hank's face drew in and his eyes shuttered. "How do you know Scott?" he asked.

_Do I tell him?_ asked Richard.

_Go ahead. Trust me, we've seen weird stuff before._

_Weirder than this?_

_Hey, it's not _my _city's hero who wears his underwear outside his tights._

"I'm about to tell you something that'll seem... completely insane," said Richard. "But I've been assured that you're used to insanity."

Hank grinned briefly. "Richard, we are a mutant high school. I have seen levels of insanity previously relegated to fairy tales. Please, go on."

Richard took a deep breath. Scott did too.

"Scott Summers lives in my head."

To his credit, Hank's mouth only dropped a fraction of an inch.

"He told me about this school," Richard quickly said. "I'm not sure how it happened but a few years ago, six years ago in fact, I was hospitalised with a ruptured brain aneurysm. When I woke up, I had what I thought were hallucinations. I saw this school-- I can recognize a lot of the features. And I saw some of the students. Sometimes my conversations would turn into conversations that Scott Summers had and for a couple of years, I was pretty heavily medicated because I'd just babble to myself."

"What type of medication?" Hank wanted to know, picking up a pen.

Richard listed off three of the prescriptions. "But recently, I've found out that I'm not hallucinating. He really is living in my head. He... he talks to me sometimes and you think I'm certifiable, don't you?"

Hank wouldn't look him in the eye. "Richard, I know that everything seems overwhelming at the moment--"

Scott groaned. Shoving against Richard's mind, he said, _Let me talk._

_What? No!_

_Do you want to spend the rest of this visit high as a kite? Let me talk._

Hank was still speaking, "-- and it's understandable that sometimes, our minds will--"

"When I first came to Xavier's your Twinkie stash was in the bottom-most drawer of the filing cabinets in the library," Scott-Richard blurted out. "The professor found it so you moved it to the specimens fridge behind all the pickled pig foetuses that you knew none of us younger kids would touch."

Hank's jaw dropped a couple inches lower.

"Your favourite song is Blinded by the Light by Bruce Springsteen. My first mission as an X-Man was to pick Ororo up and you two didn't get along. She made Jean cry." Scott searched for more information. "The rec room used to be the formal dining room. It was my idea to change it because the kids were blowing their allowance on the arcade downtown. When Jean finished her residency, you, me, Jean, Sean Cassidy, and John Proudstar got so stinking drunk, we took the hamsters from the--"

Hank held his hands up. "All right, I believe you," he interrupted hurriedly. With a sigh, he rubbed his chin, took off his glasses and cleaned them, replaced them on his nose and sighed again. "I'm officially speechless."

"I'll make note of the time and date," said Scott-Richard.

Hank wagged his head, amused and bedevilled. "It's amazing how much you resemble each other. Am I speaking with Scott or Richard at the moment?"

"Both," said Scott-Richard. "It's like there's someone else in the room and he's-- I'm dictating what he's seeing and saying."

"Fascinating." Hank peered at them through his glasses, his brown eyes coming alive.

_Uh-oh._

_Uh-oh?_ Richard parroted. _What do you mean, "uh-oh"? What's happening?_

_I know that look. Hank's just discovered a mystery. We're going to be his science experiment for the rest of the week._

_Science experiment?_

_You'll see._

* * *

The nurse, Annie, had come and gone several times since Superman-- Clark-- Kal-- whatever-- went in with McCoy and, she assumed, another couple of times while she was in there. 

It wasn't just for Jason; most of the time, she stayed outside of their section, tending to the usual schoolroom scrapes and cuts as well as some singularly mutation-based injuries. One girl with boney growths sticking out of her came in crying because a spike on her leg refused to come out and it was hurting her. Another kid, a boy, had a bloody nose from crashing into a tree during flight practice. A teacher dropped in for a bandage after being sneezed on by a student who spat magma.

"Is this normal?" Lois asked the nurse.

"Oh yeah," said Annie, rolling her eyes. "This is actually quiet."

"Is there anything I can help with?" asked Kal. Even knowing that he was Clark, she couldn't help but think of him as Kal when he was in that suit.

"I'm fine," said Annie, waving him away. "You're busy, I know." To Lois, she said, "He's going to be asleep for a long time. Did you want me to bring in a cot for you to rest on?"

Lois declined the offer and the nurse bustled off again, leaving her and Superman to look over Jason's still form.

"I'm going to go away for a while," he said softly. "I might be able to access information that could help Jason."

"From your crystals?"

He hesitated briefly before answering and Lois hated him for that fraction of a second. All these years and he still didn't trust her. "From my crystals. Maybe it will help with... that part of his body."

Lois shrugged, hollowly. "Sure. Whatever you think is best."

That seemed to make him hesitate. "Lois. Are you all--"

"All right?" Lois finished for him. She turned away, closing her eyes.

"I'm sorry. That was a stupid question." He brushed his fingers through her hair, his large, warm hands cupping the back of her head. "I love you. Both of you."

She allowed herself to lean back against him, just a little, just to get a little bit more of his heat. "I know."

In a rush of air, he was gone. Stifling a moan, Lois pressed her forehead against her crossed arms in a vain attempt to hold back a migraine. Where the hell was her pride? She shouldn't be missing him, not when they-- the romantic "they"-- had been over for half a year. And _he_ shouldn't say things like that when he was the one who ended it. How did a guy make her feel cared for but at the asme time mistrsuted? Maybe it was one of his super-powers. Super-emotional-obfuscation.

Jason stirred.

Lois lifted her head, brushing the hair from her face. "Hey, baby. I'm still here, don't worry."

He didn't move any more although his eyes twitched under his eyelids.

"Your daddies are so worried about you," she said. "It's worse that when you got the chicken pox. Remember that? Remember how sticky the oatmeal baths were and how you tried to put sugar in it so that you could have breakfast and a bath at the same time? And then we found out you were allergic to oats? So we had to keep you in a cold swimming pool for a whole weekend. You said you were turning into a huge pink raisin and Daddy said that it wasn't fair you turned into a raisin and he didn't so he hopped in with you and then I went in and finally, we had a little beach party in the tub."

Lois glanced at the EEG machine, spiking away at a regular rhythm. "You have to wake up soon, okay, honey? We have so many other adventures to have especially now that you're growing up and getting new gifts. That's what this school calls powers, you know. Gifts. And that's so right; it really is a gift. You're the best gift I've ever had. I wish I knew--"

McCoy's door cracked open. He glanced around, searching for someone but finding only Lois, he said, "I suppose it's for the best. Lois, if you don't mind coming in my office, Richard has some things to discuss with you."

Inside, Richard held his ubiquitous cup of coffee already half-drained and probably still bubbling hot. Lois winced as McCoy's door clicked closed behind her. Without the doctor as a buffer, the tautness would suffocate both of them. She was familiar with the pattern.

Lois fidgeted. "So, how'd it go?"

"Y'know. Doctors."

This was crap. She hated how stilted everything felt. For a few minutes back there, she'd been comfortable again. She had her best friend back and now he was uncomfortable all over again because he knew how uncomfortable she was all over again and she wished she knew how to talk to him again because this was killing her.

"I have something to tell you," Richard said. One finger tapped sporadically at the rim of his coffee cup. At her nod, he began. And it was more fantastic than anything she could come up with. By the time he got to the part about this Scott Summers making a room in his brain, she _really_ needed a cigarette. It wasn't even a want right now; her head pounded and her hands shook.

Maybe if she said it, it wouldn't sound so weird. "So your hallucinations are actually the memories of this person in your mind?"

"Yes."

Nope, still weird.

She took a deep breath. Could formaldehyde double as nicotine? Somehow, she didn't think so.

"Okay." Taking another bracing gulp of air, Lois finally relaxed enough to lean back on her chair. "Okay. I think in the face of magma-vomiting teenagers, a spandex-clad alien from outer space giving me a baby, and Cookie Monster as our new family doctor, your being possessed isn't that big a deal."

Richard gave her a weak, if relieved, smile. "No matter what we've been through, it's still weird, huh?"

"Oh, yeah. I don't think I can be surprised by anything, extraterrestrial, extradimensional, or otherwise. I am numb to further revelations. Try me."

He chuckled. "We're certainly not your average nuclear family."

That vise that had been squeezing Lois' chest for the past five years loosened a little. She joined in on his chuckles and soon, they were laughing so hard, tears streaked down their cheeks and Lois knew they were really just half-hysterical right now but the crying and the laughing and the howling felt good in a way that nothing really had.

"Oh, God." Richard wiped at the corners of his eyes. "Oh, man, that felt good."

He smiled at her. He still had dimples, Lois realised. Dimples should have looked incongruous on a man on the cusp of forty but there they were, as boyishly charming as the first day he goaded her into a game of Tetris as a way to cheer her up after Clark left.

"I wish..." Richard's voice faded and he looked aside.

"What?"

When he looked up, bitterness tinted his smile. "I was going to say I wish we could still laugh like that. I hardly see you around the house any more."

Lois drew back at the accusation. "I wasn't the one who stopped hanging around."

"What do you mean by that?"

"The three-month assignment to the Czech Republic right after New Krypton? And the business meetings every weekend? You're not home half the year and when you are around, you go out of your way to avoid us."

"Forgive me if I don't want to witness you and Superman cuddling on the sofa watching Letterman."

"I wasn't talking about Kal and me; I'm talking about the time you spend with Jason."

Richard went red. "Don't talk to me about Jason."

"Why not?" Lois fired back. "It only took this to get you to be with him for longer than half a day. I've been making excuses for your absence for years! He doesn't even ask about it any more; it's just a fact of life."

"First, you take him away from me then you accuse me of abandoning him?"

"How dare you-- I never took him away from you!" Lois had to keep from screaming. "If I wanted to take him away, I would have moved out as soon as we broke up. I went out of my way to make sure you two still have time together but you just kept pushing him away."

He rolled his eyes. "That's not fair."

"No, you're not being fair." Lois couldn't shut herself up. "I can understand why you'd hate me but there's no excuse for how you've treated Jason." She took a ragged breath. "What piece did he play in the last spring concert?"

He didn't answer, pressing his lips together into a tight white line.

Lois pushed on. "Which award did he get in the interim assembly? Which of his friends moved to Cincinnati last summer? What's his favourite cartoon?"

He might have whispered something but all the anger, all the resentment she held for Jason bubbling up.

"You say all these things, you talk about loving us and missing us--"

"You don't really expect me to--"

"-- and how unfair the world is to you but it's been years--"

"-- stand by and merrily--"

"--since you did anything with us without being prodded to--"

"Because it hurt too much!" Richard yelled.

Lois stepped back. Richard never yelled in anger.

He looked just as surprised at himself. For a long time, they just stood there, staring at each other.

"It hurt too much to see you three together so happy and knowing that it wasn't mine any more," Richard finally said quietly. "So I just... stayed away."

Lois' ribs rattled with the force of her heart beats. She folded her tongue under her upper teeth, an old trick she'd picked up to keep her tear ducts from overflowing.

"I never wanted you to," she finally managed

Richard wouldn't meet her eyes. Muttering something about aspirin, he left, leaving Lois with a room full of angry words.


	3. Chapter 3

Without the original crystals, going through Jor-El's information took a lot longer. As vast as the universe was, there really weren't that many natural hybrids among. The information that was available did nothing to assuage Clark's fears for Jason. 

It was midnight by the time he returned to the school. Lights still shone through a few of the first-floor windows: Ororo Munroe's office, plus a few others on the same wing that he assumed were other teacher's offices. He adjusted his vision to see through the walls: The third floor appeared to be staff rooms. The nurse, Annie, yanked the pins from her bun and shook her hair free. He moved his vision to the second floor. Rogue, the teacher with the white streak of hair, walk through curfew checks. Several kids rushed back into their rooms at her approach. On the first floor, the purple-haired woman, Elizabeth, was having a heated conversation on a telephone; Ororo serenely read through a pile of papers while her partner, Logan, sat across from her, making the occasional comment.

Clark landed on her office balcony and tapped on the glass. Logan went on alert; claws emerged from between his knuckles as he half-rose from his seat.

"It's the Big Blue," he said.

"Come in," said Ororo without turning around. "Hank's been expecting you."

"Are they still downstairs?" Clark asked as he entered.

"Yes. We set up some cots since both Lois and Richard opted to sleep there for the night. Do you remember the way down?"

He nodded.

Lois looked so peaceful when she slept. The tightness she held on her shoulders disappeared. Her hair, always so viciously tamed and styled during the day, stretched out in wild waves on her pillow. Even her hands relaxed, neither clenched around a pen nor stiff on a table, but, instead, curled ever so slightly inward. That was Lois all over-- an impenetrable brick box, self-contained and self-reliant to the rest of the world, but jewel-toned velvet and fierce devotion to people she cared about.

Unbidden, his attention moved to Richard. His breathing stuttered. Every time Clark looked at the man, he felt like he inhaled a cloud of kryptonite dust. Richard was a good man. Heck, he was a great man: lovingly raising Jason, unabashedly crazy about Lois, forthright, modest, one hell of a pool player, and a good friend. His friendly overtures towards Kent the Office Klutz drove Clark insane with guilt because he knew he didn't deserve kindness from him. Not when his greatest wish had been to take Richard's family for his own.

Before Clark gave into the urge to bang his head against a wall, Dr. McCoy popped his head out of the laboratory. "You're back. Was your search fruitful?"

Clark nodded and held out a small recording crystal. "Some of the science went over my head but I've recorded everything on file."

Like a child with a new toy, Dr. McCoy gleefully took the crystal. "How does this work?"

His zeal was contagious. His expression lightening, Clark pulled the shard up to eye-level and said, "Play."

A small hologram of Jor-El stood on top of the crystal. He bowed to Clark and Hank. "This is the doctor you spoke of?"

"Yes."

"Is it sentient?" asked Hank.

Clark shook his head. "Just high-tech lights and sounds."

"I see." Hank peered at him over the hologram and Clark had the sense that he really _did_ see. His chest tightened a little bit more. "Well, why don't Jor-El and I have a chat. Would you like a cot as well?"

"I don't really need to sleep," said Clark. "Besides, I think I'm needed elsewhere."

"Of course." Hank made a motion to stop him. "If I might be so audacious as to consider myself your personal physician..."

Clark raised his brows, waiting for him to continue.

"Unless it's a disaster of massive proportions, I would suggest getting some rest. Your body may not need it but after the past twenty-four hours, your mind certainly does."

"I'll keep that in mind," said Clark. "Thank you, doctor."

* * *

Richard woke up just as Clark stepped through the door. It had been one hell of a night. If Scott hadn't done something to actually shut his brain down, he would not have been able to sleep. 

Superman wore what must have been Kryptonian loungewear: a one-piece, dark blue suit with a high collar and two red capes clipped at his shoulders so that one hung over his back like a normal cape while the other covered his front.

Hearing him rise, Clark flashed him a skittish smile. "Good morning," he whispered.

"Morning," said Richard, grudgingly leaving the "good" out of it.

Clark studied him strangely. "Breakfast is ready upstairs."

"Coffee?"

"Tonnes."

"Great."

_Great_, Scott echoed.

Richard had a brief vision of his double stretching inside his head, scratching his butt, and smacking his lips.

_Not far from the truth,_ said Scott.

Watching Clark amble down the hall, Richard found it hard to believe that no one even suspected him of being Superman. True, his slouch and babbling speech vastly differed from Superman's powerful stance and quiet monosyllables but really, all that was between Clark and Superman was a pair of Buddy Holly glasses.

_If you were Superman, would you have a normal life?_ Scott asked.

Richard started to give a negative answer but changed his mind. _I think I would. If I had to be the perfect hero twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, I think I'd go nuts._

Scott hummed thoughtfully. _So which one do you think is the mask? Clark or Superman?_

_That's the sixty-four million dollar question, isn't it?_

_Do you think Lois likes Clark or Superman better?_

Richard nearly smacked his head. _Who died and made you Dr. Phil? It's too early and I'm hungry._

The dining room burbled with activity. A couple adults and several older students scurried in and out of the kitchen with pitchers of juice, water and milk, platters of food, and boxes of cereal. Richard spotted a table close to the kitchen where most of the teachers sat. Rogue waved at them and nudged Ororo who turned and made some motions to make space beside her.

Clark nodded at the assembly, nearly causing a tidal wave of food down the first table as they students surged to meet him.

"Students!" Ororo's voice rang out but it wasn't enough to drown the kids' excitement. After her third repeated shout with no effect, she looked at Clark who smiled and held his arms up for silence.

"Thank you for coming to say good morning," he said, "but I think you should all finish your breakfast first. _Then_ I can answer your questions."

While the kids settled, Richard opted for the relative safety of the empty kitchen and, thus, closer to the coffee pot. Grabbing a clear stretch of the countertop, he took his breakfast and commandeered a barstool. Disconcertingly, Clark followed him, choosing the seat to his left. He really didn't want to have to talk to him right now, Richard thought as he dug into his meal. Eating with your rival had to be against the rules.

"My mom made silver-dollar pancakes for me when I was little," Clark said in a quiet voice. "With jam eyes and smiles. I try to cook them the way she tells me to but it never turns out as fluffy."

Richard nodded, chewing, trying to think of him as Clark instead of Superman which would hopefully keep the strangeness of the topic at a minimum. Scott flashed an incogorous image of Superman in a flowered apron. Richard nearly choked.

"I was sick a lot as a child. I had bizarre allergies: trout, fresh cut grass but not growing ones, honey. Honey made me vomit." He looked so uncomfortable hunched over the table like that, his demeanour not quite Superman but not quite Clark. He almost smiled at Richard then, as if sensing Richard's surliness, the smile crumpled and he set to polishing off a metric tonne of pancakes.

"I was sick a lot, too," Richard finally spoke up after a minute, unable to stand the awkwardness of it all. "When Jason started getting... I mean, that's why no one in my family really questioned his paternity. Besides, who'd believe who his real dad was?"

"It was kind of strange," said Clark. "Back in... where I grew up, if you weren't strong enough to be in football as a kid, you weren't really worth talking about. And it wasn't that I wasn't strong enough; I'd always been strong-- when I got older, I was too strong actually-- but as a kid right after I used my powers, I'd get so weak. That was on top of the strange allergies." He shrugged. "But at least I wasn't allergic to dogs."

Could he be actually feeling sympathy for the guy? Richard inwardly groaned. He was so happy being pissed off! He had reason to feel good about himself and his chance with Lois when he thought of Superman as a home-wrecker. Now, with the puppy-dog eyes and the sad story and the knowledge that he couldn't outright lie.

Thankfully, Elizabeth and Ororo entered moments later.

Clark slid to his feet. "I'm sorry for the interruption at breakfast."

"Compliments to the percolator," said Richard lifting his cup.

"I'm pleased that you enjoyed it," said Ororo. "I just wanted to re-introduce you to Betsy. She's our resident telepath as well as the school's public relations officer."

Betsy stuck her hand out Richard. "Whenever you're ready, we can talk. I might be able to help with your problem."

"Thank you," said Richard. Scott also made him say, "Are there any other telepaths?"

"A few students," said Betsy. "But none of them are capable of working Cerebro just yet."

"Hank also wanted to have a few words with Superman when you're ready," said Ororo.

"Of course," Clark inclined his head.

"What about Jason?" Richard asked. "Has he made any progress?"

"We are still in the midst of researching the problem," said Ororo. "I believe Hank is on a conference call with a colleague in Scotland who also has extensive experience in mutant genetics. Which reminds me, Betsy, we will need someone to force feed Hank for the rest of the day. He tends to forget about mundane things such as eating and sleeping when he has a puzzle to solve," she explained.

Gulping down the rest of his coffee, Richard scrambled off his barstool. "I guess there's no time like the present. If you want, Elizabeth, I can meet with you right now."

"I've cleared my schedule for you today," she said, her faint British accent erasing the hard K from the word "schedule". "My office is just down the hall. If you'll follow me."

Her heels clicked assertively on the hardwood floor. Richard had met women like her before, perfectly poised finishing-school gems, either dumb and simpering or cold as the diamonds they adored. What she was doing in a school was beyond his imagination but if she could help Jason, he'd put on the Ivy League for her.

"Are you aware of my mutation, Mr. White?" she asked not looking back as she addressed him.

"You're a telepath," he said.

_Ask her what level_, Scott said.

"Tell Scott that I am a beta level telepath and a gamma level telekinetic," she said. "He would also do well to advise you on how to form a mental shield. Telepathy is quite a common mutation, and sometimes the children cannot help but pick up stray thoughts."

_Thanks for the warning,_ Richard told Scott.

_I thought I _was _shielding you,_ he retorted.

Elizabeth pushed her door open and waved him in, sashaying behind her desk as Richard took a seat. She didn't have a full computer, Richard noted, just the small electronic tablet that she'd brought with her in the hospital last night. God, was it only last night that this whole nightmare started?

"I asked to meet you alone for several reasons," she said after the perfunctory offerings of drinks. "First of all, I would like to assure you that Dr. McCoy shared only the information relevant for this meeting: the existence of Scott Summers in your mind. Whatever else you talked about last night remains strictly in Dr. McCoy's confidence."

"Thank you," said Richard, still wary.

"Secondly, I would like to tell you a bit about myself." She leaned back, swinging one leg over the other, her French-tipped nails fiddling with her light pen. "I joined Xavier's staff two years ago but I have worked with our sister school in Scotland since I turned eighteen. My official title is public relations officer; with the increasing attention on mutants, the school required a full-time staff member to take care of liaisons with the public and private sectors for funding, press releases, and other such business."

_Spin doctors,_ Scott translated with a touch of scorn.

"Yes, a spin doctor, Mr. Summers."

"That is creepy," Richard said.

"Your... roommate is loud for someone who supposedly spent much time with telepaths."

_I'm six years out of practice,_ Scott said sharply.

Elizabeth replied with a dry smile. "You should be pleased with my presence, Mr. Summers. It means that Xavier's is thriving just as Charles Xavier dreamed it would."

Scott only grunted. Wait. "Dreamed?" Did she just use the past-tense? Before Scott made Richard ask the question, Elizabeth spoke again.

"My final job description is resident telepath. I'm sure Mr. Summers knows that all telepaths studying under Xavier's academic curriculum are required to have reams and reams of psychology classes and as such, we are most times the de facto guidance counsellors. We are best able to anticipate and contain emotions that might otherwise do harm."

"I realise that Jason might need counselling after this," said Richard.

Her bland smile widened by a half-inch. "It's not Jason who we're worried about."

Richard cocked his head back, his brow wrinkling. "What do you... This meeting is about Scott Summers?"

_I can wait to get back to my body,_ said Scott. _Just help Jason get better first._

"Of course, the boy's health is our primary concern but even then, I'm afraid I can't just do pull you out of Richard's mind," said Elizabeth.

The hairs on Richard's arms stood on end. He felt something crawling into his brain, spreading like a wad of peanut butter over toast. He wanted to hyperventilate but his lungs inflated and deflated with maddening regularity.

"Why?" he managed to ask.

"Scott Summers' body was destroyed six years ago. There is nothing left for him to return to."

Someone somewhere roared, filling his head with reverberating patterns of colour that just as nauseatingly flushed black.

Richard's eyes rolled up and he passed out on Elizabeth Braddock's Barcelona original.

* * *

Lois woke up with a crick on her neck and a bladder ready to burst. As she washed her face in the medlab's bathroom, she took stock of everything that they needed: clothes for a week, toothbrushes, toothpaste, deodorant, face wash, moisturizer, lotion, Jason's medications (past and present), shoes (casual and formal). She had to call Jason's school to tell them about his extended stay at the hospital, then call Perry at the Planet to talk about an extended leave for her and Richard. She didn't know whether or not to call for Clark either; he still didn't know that she knew. Richard's family had to be notified; they'd left more than twenty messages on her cell phone alone. 

She nearly rammed into Clark on her way out of the bathroom. "Hey!"

"Sorry." He steadied her by placing his hands on her shoulders.

"Don't worry about it." Lois rubbed her nose. "I was just-- what are you wearing?"

He might have blushed except that Clark blushed, never Superman, and she was pretty sure Clark wouldn't be caught dead in a skin-tight coverall with a sheet slung over it for propriety's sake.

"Kryptonian house wear," he said. He wasn't blushing now. That was some superpower: blush control. "It's very comfortable."

"You said that about the costume," she pointed out.

He smiled. Oh God, he still had dimples too. What was it with her and her fatal attraction to tall, dark men with dimples? "It is. You should try one."

"At my age?" Lois snorted. "I can barely justify my yoga shorts."

"You'd look lovely," he said. Finally realising that he was blocking her way, he stepped aside. "Jason seems to be sleeping more soundly now. Ms. Ghazikhanian placed a neural stabilizer on his head to ease his brain waves."

"Ms. Ghazikhanian?"

"The nurse. Annie."

"Oh." Lois ran her fingers through her hair, wincing as she yanked at tangles. "Dammit."

"Let me." He was suddenly behind her, prising her hands from the Chinese finger torture that her hair had become, and lowering them to her side. His hands slid down her arms, leaving trails of heat inside her elbows and around her biceps. Gathering her hair up in one hand, he then used the other to scratch her scalp, easing a sigh from her lips. Ever since she figured out who Superman was, Lois had never been able to understand how someone who could crush a trailer between two fingers could be gentle enough to catch dragonflies for Jason to observe. Or to comb the tangles from her hair.

His fingers dragged through, over and over, pulling lightly on her scalp. With each stroke, some of her tension eased. It was like he was brushing her stress away. His fingers rested momentarily on the nape of her neck, then after a few more passes, behind her ears, and then again at her temples.

Before Lois knew it, she was leaning back against him, his funny cloak covering them both in his heat. He smelled like a lawn after a rainy day. He'd stopped brushing her hair now and was simply stroking her from crown to shoulders and back, up and down, in an easy rhythm.

When he stepped away, Lois' stomach dropped and goose bumps went up in her arms.

"It looks fine now," Clark said, his soft baritone vibrating down her nape.

"It looks--" Anger swept through Lois as quickly as the cold did. "You... you ass! You break up with me and then you just... fondle... Argh!" She tried to pound on his chest but he wouldn't even give her that, catching her hand and cupping it tenderly despite the fact that he could probably turn her bones into paste. In fact, she wanted him to get pissed off enough at her to do just that.

"Lois."

"Don't 'Lois' me with that tone of voice, Kal!" Yanking her hand again, she stalked a safe six feet away from him, out of range of that delicious heat and the ozone smell. "Jason is eleven. He's eleven years old."

He nodded slowly, clearly of the opinion that she'd finally stepped over the edge.

"Our son--" Catching her self, Lois clenched her mouth closed and whispered instead, knowing he'd hear her fine. "Our son is eleven years old and you didn't let me in any closer last month than the first time you landed on my balcony."

"Lois--"

"You took me to Paris and Sydney and the lower stratosphere but I was never invited into your apartment. Or back in your fortress for that matter. This is the first time I've ever seen you outside of your usual suit!"

"Lois--"

"I know you thought it was better this way and that you're keeping me safe, but you know what? I don't feel safe. Okay? I feel... I feel..."

He leaned forward. "Yes?"

Lois' shoulders slumped, her nose stinging with the threat of tears. "I'm not some damsel in distress that you have to keep in a cotton ball."

"Of course not," he said. "I've never thought that."

"Than stop acting like it," she snapped. "I am an investigative reporter, the daughter of a four-star general, and most importantly, the mother of a boy that the doctors thought would die before he turned two. _Nothing_ can scare me."

"You scare me," he said simply.

The words were so absurd that Lois said, "Excuse me?"

"You scare me." He drew closer, palms up at his side like he had to show he wasn't armed. Which was probably smart. When she got to this point, Lois was liable to hit something to let it all out. "You don't need me. You never have. You have your own mind. You never, ever listen to what I say."

Lois had to smirk at that.

"You can leave me."

She looked up. He was right beside her again, his brilliant blue eyes unusually moist.

"Lois." He took a deep breath but before he could any anything more, she pressed two fingers to his mouth. He spoke anyway, his lips moving against her fingertips almost like a kiss. "You know."

* * *

Clark pulled away as Dr. McCoy's footsteps drew closer. By the time he pulled the curtains open, Lois was sitting on her chair on the other side of the bed and he was on the other, holding Jason's hand. 

"Good morning, Ms. La--Lois," Dr. McCoy amended. "There's still breakfast upstairs if you're hungry."

"I'm fine, thanks," said Lois. Her hands rose, presumably to push her hair down, but she jerked them back onto the edge of Jason's bed. "Doctor, I'd like to apologize to you."

Dr. McCoy's bushy blue brow rose to hairline level. "Whatever for, my dear?"

"For yelling at you last night," she said. "You flew all the way down to help a complete stranger out and I blow my top off for no reason at all, yelling out the dirty laundry for all and sundry to hear. Not my best moment."

"It's a stressful time right now," said Dr. McCoy. "Truthfully, I'd rather you express your emotions than bottle them up."

"It's still no excuse. I turned into one of those monster moms that I swore I'd never be. Next thing you know, I'll be heading a picket-line to keep soda in classrooms and hunting down PE coaches who allow tackle football in anything less than seventy-five degree weather."

"Rest assured that I have had worse," said Dr. McCoy. "You didn't throw anything, for one." Patting her arm, he came around to Clark's side of the bed to check Jason's vitals once again. "The neural stabilizer seems to be doing the trick. I was afraid that it wouldn't be as effective considering his condition."

"Why would his condition affect the machine?" Clark asked.

"It's an aid that encourages that induces relaxation by tapping certain brain waves. Mind over matter, so to speak. Betsy was saying that you--" he peered over his shoulder to look at Clark-- "are resistant to surface-level telepathic scans because your brain waves are different. A different frequency if you will. It's almost like having a built-in mental shield. She was actually interested in speaking with you about-- Oh, hello, Annie."

The nurse licked her lips, her heart beating a little quicker than normal. "Betsy teped. The boy's dad is going to need that bed we prepped. Rogue is bringing him down now."

"Richard?" Lois and Clark both said. "What's wrong?" asked Lois.

Dr. McCoy addressed Ms. Ghazikhanian first. "Tell her they can come right in. Betsy," he spoke to the air, "did he react any differently than what you thought?" Whatever he heard, it must not have been a surprise because he nodded assuredly and said, "His bed awaits. I'll tell Annie to have a spare mini-Cerebro set aside in case you need it." Quiet again. "You've never met Scott when he's angry."

"What's wrong with Richard?" Lois demanded.

"A small reaction to a large revelation," answered Dr. McCoy. "Betsy has it all taken care of, never fear. He should be conscious--"

"Conscious!"

"--in a few minutes but we're going to deliberately keep him under until Betsy can root around in his psyche for any damage."

Now even Clark was worried. "Damage?"

Rogue entered with Ms. Braddock at his/her heels. Richard lay slack in the young teacher's arms.

"Put him in that second bed," Ms. Braddock ordered.

"What happened?" Lois demanded. All the tension Clark had brushed away was back in full force.

"We told him what happened to Scott Summers," said Ms. Braddock. "Summers didn't take it very well at all."

No kidding. If Scott Summers taught here, he must be made of pretty stern stuff. The news couldn't be good if it could make someone like him go into shock and bring Richard with him.

"Let's go to the second sub-basement," said Hank, throwing an arm over Lois' shoulder. "My associate, Dr. MacTaggert should be in touch very soon."

"But Richard--"

"Is in good hands with Betsy."

Clark raised his eyebrows at that but Dr. McCoy didn't break a sweat. "Did my information help?" he asked.

"Indubitably," Dr. McCoy replied. "Why, with the information you've given me, genetic research will be able to grow by leaps and bounds in the next five years of not less."

"I'm sorry, Dr. McCoy but I'm going to have to ask you to erase all your personal copies of this information after this ordeal," said Clark.

The doctor went slightly lilac. "I beg your pardon?"

"Even with the more archaic kryptonian information, it's too advanced," he said. "I can't let that knowledge spread before this planet is ready for it."

"But... but the people we could help, the diseases..." His voice faltered away.

Clark winced inwardly. He hated having to do this. "I'm taking away the methods and the sources, doctor. You still know the results."

Dr. McCoy sighed. "I suppose I'd best start memorising."

He cheered up again by the time they arrived at the council room. A large central monitor showed a stand-by image with actual footage confined to a small rectangle in the lower-right hand corner. As Dr. McCoy passed by the screen he tapped the small square. The footage grew to fill the entire screen.

A grey-haired woman in a lab coat slid her chair to the middle of the frame. "Hello, Henry. I was expecting you a little later."

"Did you need a bit more time?" asked Dr. McCoy.

"Ach, no, I have all your information." She shuffled through some papers. Clark noted that she was as orderly as Dr. McCoy. "Let's talk about our lad. Will you bring up the feed from the clinic?"

The screen divided in half vertically, and then the right side divided in half again horizontally. Jason took up the smaller, lower right part of the screen; Dr. MacTaggert, the upper right; and a three-dimensional animation of a DNA molecule, the largest section.

"This is a model of one of Jason's chromosomes," Dr. MacTaggert began, her Scottish accent decreasing noticeably as she got down to business. "The red bits are the ones that are vastly different from human sequences. As you can see, it averages out to about forty percent."

"Why only forty?" asked Clark. "Shouldn't it be half?"

"Current human knowledge dictates that as completely different entities, humans and kryptonians shouldn't even be able to reproduce. It's not even a matter of species; your very atomic structure and metabolic pathways are different. However, from the information you've given, kryptonian genes seem to be quite adaptable in the zygotic stage. The hows and whys are a little blurry right now but what seems to be happening is that the kryptonian half is reacting to the physiological changes that occur during human puberty."

"Why didn't this happen until now?" Lois asked. "I mean, he's always had kryptonian DNA; why did he get this attack just now?"

Dr. McCoy answered this question. "His health problems were small attacks, perhaps times when his body was still trying to make compromises between the two entirely different... well, I'm not sure what to call them. 'Species' doesn't even begin to cover the number of differences in basic genetic ancestry even taking into the account the new classifications systems which... I digress," he said hurriedly. "Humans grow in spurts, a phenomenon you can see mirrored in Jason's medical records. He was most sickly during his first two years of life. Then between the ages three and eleven, when his body began to plateau, his health also improved. Now, with the onset of puberty, he will likely suffer a few more health concerns."

"Will he be this ill throughout all his teenage years?" asked Clark.

The two doctors looked at each other. "That's what we wanted to ask you," said Dr. McCoy. "We can only make comparisons between your family and Lois', perhaps study a few mutants with similar powers, and make hypotheses."

"Unfortunately, we can only learn as we go," said Dr. MacTaggert. "He is a very unique little boy."

Unique.

When Clark was growing up, that was a nicer word for "alone."


	4. Chapter 4

Scott shot into his room in Richard's mind, numb but at the same time roiling with anger. 

His body was gone. If his body was gone that meant he was...

That he was...

"Jean!" he called out. "Jean, please."

No one answered.

He paced, clenching his fists to keep from tearing his hair out. Too many thoughts attacked him, too many conclusions that he'd ignored because they were much too painful to acknowledge.

The professor wasn't here. Ororo didn't mention him at all. Betsy Braddock referred to him in the past tense.

Jean wasn't here. Hank had her medlab and Braddock had her counselling office.

His body wasn't here. His body was...

Taking a deep breath, Scott refocused. The last thing he remembered was riding his bike back to Alkali Lake.

The room shifted, fading fuzzily into a tree-lined mountain pass. It was the peak of summer; only those who boarded were at the school, a mere twenty-nine kids. His leave of absence was almost up, a leave that was anything but restful with Jean's voice and images of her body smashed under a wave disrupting every hour. An empty bottle of whisky lay under his bed.

Scott watched his memories almost dispassionately as the trees on either side of the trail. Alkali Lake's glacier-green surface shuddered closer. Time snapped, the memory ran in fast-forward, and suddenly he stood at the top of a rocky outcropping, searching the icy water as his name reverberated through the valley.

"Leave me alone," said both memory-Scott and current-Scott. The Scott in the memories roared, snatching off his glasses to attack the lake. The voice grew louder, forcing him down on his knees.

"Stop it." He whispered because he couldn't stand to add to the noise. "_Stop it_!"

Contrary to popular belief, Scott's vision didn't go red when he let his power loose. In fact, in the few seconds when he didn't have the glasses, the brilliance of the colours often took his breath away.

Time snapped once more and he lay on the rock, damp from a giant wave and dizzy from the sharp white light that had emerged from the lake. Jean stood before him, dazedly melancholy, and if this was insanity, he'd gladly take it. Seeing things was preferable to hearing them.

"Jean." Current-Scott said her name with more anger and urgency than disbelief, unlike his counter-part. He cut through the memory, banishing his shade to stand before his resurrected fiancée. "You didn't tell me everything."

She self-consciously tucked a hank of hair behind her ear. "No." She wouldn't meet his eyes. Her hands shook.

Scott lost his anger. He'd seen her that look before on her off days when the Phoenix pressed particularly hard against her psyche. "It's okay, honey. Tell me."

Shaking her head violently, Jean pressed the balls of her palms against hr temples. "No. No, I didn't. _I couldn't_."

"Shhh, shhh, honey, of course you didn't." Scott embraced her as she muttered things like "So _stupid_ of me to do that!" and "Too long without a session" and "I couldn't stop her," all the while trying not to come to the right conclusion. Her fear denied all other possibilities.

"Was it Phoenix?" he asked.

She almost moaned, caught herself, and nodded.

"What did she do?"

Jean clutched tighter at his neck, her bony shoulders shuddering. "She knew I loved you. She knew you were one of my anchors. Without you or the professor, I wouldn't have anyone to ground me, to help me stay strong. So she... "

Scott stopped her sentence with a kiss, a sweet gentle one, the kind he gave her on their first date, when they were both so tired it was all they could do to cuddle, or between the most boring of administrative duties as a promise for fun to come. Jean held the kiss longer than usual as though wanting to absorb the sweetness of it all.

Her eyes remained closed as she pulled away. "I killed you."

"No, you didn't," Scott quickly denied. "Phoenix did."

"I _am_ Phoenix."

"Phoenix is just a small-- albeit completley scary-- part of you. You're not her any more than I'm my optic blasts, okay? We've been over this before." He cupped her face. "I love you. Whatever happened, it wasn't your fault."

"I killed you!"

"If you killed me, we wouldn't be having an astral make-out session."

That broke her sadness. "I'm dead, too, I think."

"If _you're_ dead, we definitely wouldn't be having an astral make-out session," Scott pointed out again. "I don't think there's sex in heaven."

"No, I mean..." Jean gesticulated like she always did when her brain moved faster than her mouth. "I'm not here. Hank would have said something."

"Professional courtesy?"

"No. His face was... different." Jean bit her lower lip. "I think maybe I'm just a memory you have of me. The last little impressions of our psychic link."

Scott drew back, consternation twisting his face. "That's impossible. If you're just a figment of my imagination, you wouldn't have been able to tell me what's been going on in the school while I was in Metropolis. You wouldn't have told me what I needed to do in Richard's body."

But Jean's brow remained wrinkled as she scanned the distance as if the trees could answer her questions. "Remember what I told you when we made the link? It was purely instinctual; I had no idea I did it and what the effects might have been. Maybe I put a little bit of my psychic awareness in you, kind of like how you and all the kids develop a telepathic shield from living with me and the Professor."

"So, I'm telepathic now?" Scott shook his head. "No way. You're alive. I have to believe you're alive. If the professor's gone and my body's gone, I... Jean, you're _my_ anchor, too."

"What's the last thing you remember?" she asked with a sudden urgency. "What was the last memory you have before you woke up in Richard's body?"

He played along. "We were here and I was kissing you."

"After that?"

"You slipped me some tongue."

"Scott!"

With a sigh, he concentrated. "I was--" Scott's breath hitched. "I was choking. I heard your voice."

"Just my voice?"

"Yes. No," he amended. "Yes _and_ no. It was just your voice but there were two of them. One was screaming--"

A screeching "Mineminemineminemine!" echoed all around the valley. "WantitNeeditGiveittomebabyyeahgivemeeverything. You'remineminemineminemine."

Jean pressed her hands against her ears, her lips tightening into a white line.

"The other one was you," said Scott. "You said--"

"--- that bitch won't take my man!" Jean ended, her face breaking into a smile. Scott grinned, too.

"And she didn't," he said. "She didn't kill me. You saved me first by putting me in Richard's body."

* * *

There were worse things to wake up to than a pair of breasts. Richard blinked several times, sighing in appreciation. 

"Welcome back," said Betsy.

"Good to be back," he replied, blushing slightly. Someone his age with his life experience really shouldn't be able to blush any more.

Smirking, she sat back so that he could only see her face. "Summers really did start making rudimentary shields in your mind. That was the only thing that saved you from going into a coma."

Richard started to get up but she pushed his shoulders back down.

"Best not. You're still wired."

"For what?"

"I'm trying to understand your brain activity," she said. "It's well and good mucking about your corner of the astral plane but I need some sort of... template if I'm to separate Summers from you."

"But Scott doesn't have a body," said Richard, alarmed that he was alarmed. "What'll happen when you separate us?"

"It won't be permanent. I just think it will be better for all if you two didn't share every waking moment together."

Shifting under the blanket, Richard asked, "Is he there _all_ the time?"

"From your morning wank to your last visit to the loo," said Betsy cheerfully.

_You never told me that!_ Richard yelled at Scott.

There was no answer.

_Scott?_

"He's retreated," Betsy told him. She had her hands on either side of his temples, her eyes closed but fluttering. "Very understandable after the news. I could force him out but it would hurt."

"Let him stay," Richard said quickly. "He needs a little time to process." Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Jason sleeping on his bed. "So when can I get up? As much as I appreciate the concern, we're here for Jason not me."

Catching the direction of his gaze, Betsy said, "Your son is stable. He's still feverish but they seem to have it under control. Annie and Hank both have portable units attached to his monitors; if anything happens they can be here in a jiffy. Hank is with Lois and Superman right now discussing possible treatments with Dr. MacTaggert."

Something in Richard's heart cracked at that. With some difficulty, he pushed the feeling away. He was going to change, he told himself. He was going to make up for the past.

"What've they found so far?" he asked, please to hear his voice come out straight.

She shrugged. "I don't know. I could listen in but it's all Greek to me. I quite cheerfully skipped all my science classes."

He let himself smile. "Not something I want to hear when you're supposed to be the one in charge of the wires stuck to my head."

"Oh, those. They gave me a list of button colours that I shouldn't touch."

By the time Hank, Lois and Clark returned to the med lab, Betsy had made her way back upstairs after declaring Richard fit to walk around. He waited for them at Jason's side, forcing his face to show impassiveness as they approached.

"Anything?"

"Watch and wait," said Lois. "Just like old times."

Richard just barely stopped himself from reaching out to her. Then again on second thought, he continued the movement, slinging his arm around her shoulders and giving her neck a slight squeeze. "I should call Perry and everyone else to let them know where we are."

Lois smacked her head. "Damn! I was going to do that."

"You haven't even eaten breakfast yet," he said. "I'll make the calls."

"You've just recovered from a psychic shock," Clark chipped in. "_I'll_ make the calls; the both of you should rest."

"Don't forget to call as Clark," Richard said, unthinkingly.

There was a chorus of gasps-- one from each person in the room. Richard's was the loudest. He hadn't stuck his foot this deeply down his throat since he was eleven and accidentally addressed a senator's husband by her lover's name. Then, as now, the only thing to do was soldier on and ignore anything happened.

"I think between Grewal and McKiney, the office should be okay," he continued. "They did a good job of filling in for me when I was out on assignment. I can smooth over deadlines with Perry if you want to keep working on your articles, Lois."

"Sure," she said, her voice strangled. She coughed and spoke again, "I've got most of the information I need on my jumpdrive anyway." She couldn't look at Clark either, Richard noted.

"It's all right, Richard," Clark said softly. "I was about to tell her anyway." His tone changed, not Clark's higher-pitched babbling nor Superman's solemn bass but an intermediate. Richard wondered if that was his real voice or just another disguise.

"Wait," Lois said, her eyes narrowed. "Richard, you knew about this?"

_Scott, I would really appreciate it if you could make me pass out again,_ Richard thought. No such luck. He was on his own fixing this one. "It was an accident, actually."

But she had already turned that dark, lethal glare at Clark. "You told my ex-fiancé but not me?"

"I-I didn't mean to," Clark began, hints of his stutter coming forward.

"You didn't _mean_ to tell him?" Lois clenched her fists, her arms stiff at her sides. "You've managed to keep quiet about it around me for eight years but you--" She stopped, her breath coming in ragged. "I'm going to get a cigarette and the next person who tells me that it's bad for me is going to die."

They watched her stalk out of the med lab, purse in hand and already rooting for her Camels.

* * *

The dry cold wind didn't bother Lois. Her body had gone cold even before she left the house. Her stomach hurt and her head ached and she was so full of... everything that her arms trembled. 

She tromped through the damp brownness of the gardens, studiously avoiding the few smoky tendrils marking fellow smokers in the hedges. She wanted to go somewhere far, far away. Somewhere she could pump her system full of nicotine and have a mild, mindless nervous breakdown in privacy. This place had dozens of teenage mutants; there had to be tonnes of places where the little marmots could emote, goddammit.

Her hands were nearly numb by the time she reached the lake and she sucked back the cigarettes like they were oxygen. A boathouse and dock stood abandoned for the winter, a covered swing hung sadly under a snow-laden awning beside the building. Lois brushed off the thin layer of snow from one side of the bench and sat, reaching for another cigarette.

She could really choose 'em, she told herself bitterly. Every single time she thought she could let her guard down, someone always kicked her in the teeth. There was a word for women like her: stupid.

She was really tired. She was exhausted of being so strong all the time, of pretending that nothing hurt when every part of her soul was black and blue from getting kicked out on the street. Even that she could stand if only Jason was well, but he was still hooked up to all those machines and the world's experts on genetics were as clueless as she was.

Lois dropped her head on her hands and sobbed. It was not pretty; Lois could not do the pretty cry. When she cried, there was mucous, and redness, and smeared make-up, and sounds more appropriate on a wild boar. One of her main aversions towards crying in public was the knowledge of how ugly she cried. She'd let herself cry like this exactly four other times: two days after her mom's funeral when her dad took them away from her grave, three months after Clark's disappearance when she finally acknowledged that Superman was gone, two months after Jason's birth when the doctors said he couldn't live past the age of two, and two years after Clark's return when Richard took a six-month assignment to Darfur to get away from them. This time, she was experiencing a fantastic combination of all of the above. This was going to be the last time, dammit. She refused to do this again. No one except Jason was worth it.

Two more cigarettes later and she still didn't feel any calmer.

"Try one of these." A cigar appeared under her nose. Lois followed it up a hairy arm encased in red plaid and leather which was, in turn, attached to Logan. The X-Man had half of a cigar stuck in the corner of his mouth. At her bemused expression, he explained, "The way you were sucking back those little sticks, I figured you needed something a little stronger. You're gonna run out soon."

"Thanks but I don't like them," Lois said.

He shrugged and put the cigar back into an inside pocket. "They're looking for you. Hank may have come up with a way to treat the kid but he wants to run it by you first."

That got Lois up and running.

"Hey!" she heard Logan call out. "Look out for the--"

One foot caught on a raised root while the other caught a patch of ice and Lois went down with a lurching twist to her ankle.

"God fucking DAMN, stupid idiotic--" Her list of swear words had sadly decreased since Jason's birth.

Logan was at her side immediately, quietly inspecting her ankle. By his noncommittal grunts, Lois surmised that nothing was too damaged besides her pride. "Looks like a sprain. Bad shoes for the winter."

"I left my ice skates in the house."

Slipping one hand under her knees and the other around her shoulders, Logan lifted her easily.

"I can walk," Lois pointed out.

"If I let you walk this far, those two back in the house are going to try to pick a fight with me and I have a shitload of other things I've got to take care of." Still, he let her down when they were in view of the house.

Richard and Clark sat at opposite each other when she came down to the council room. They both looked up. Lois opted to stare at the large screen over their heads.

When he saw her approach, Hank clapped his hands together. "Ah, now we can begin. If you please, Moira."

"Because we still haven't sequenced every single gene in human DNA-- and will likely not fully understand the code for a few years yet-- we cannot fully understand how Jason's DNA is different," said MacTaggert. "We don't even know if he's sick because his body cannot create certain proteins, if they're making too much of another, or if the current environment is not compatible with his cellular make-up. However, we have made a few key comparisons with the gene sequences that we do know about."

The screen divided into two with the right once again showing illustrations and diagrams.

"With Jor-El's help, we can code Jason's DNA with his parents and several other control subjects to understand the differences. Only then can we use gene therapy to correct any possible weaknesses in the code."

"This sounds like it's going to take a lot of time," said Clark.

McCoy nodded. "It will. To be honest, I cannot foresee any reasonable progress for another year at best. Three to five years is more likely. And even then, the DNA we introduce in the therapy is temporary; he will have to receive injections for the rest of his life."

"He's used to it," said Richard, wearily massaging his temple.

"What are you doing for Jason right now?" asked Lois.

"On that front, we have some better news." McCoy held up a new file. "The likeliest culprit is a whopping viral infection which his immune system attacked but possibly due to its hyperactive kryptonian status combining with the plethora of hormonal changes, the condition turned into acute disseminated encephalomyelitis."

There was silence in the room.

"He had a bad case of the mumps," MacTaggert translated.

* * *

Mumps? Clark went through his mental stores for an explanation of the disease. A common viral disease in the third world, it had all but disappeared in first world countries due to vaccinations. Symptoms included painful swelling and high fevers but were usually not fatal unless the fever turned usually high. 

"Was he never vaccinated?" asked Dr. McCoy.

Lois shook her head. "He had such a bad reaction to the first set of shots that the doctors decided not to continue until he got older. We were supposed to go in for his new shots before he started middle school."

"We'll see if we can't include that in the gene therapy then."

"That's it?" Richard asked. "The mumps?"

"Jor-El tells me that even though Jason is genetically more human, the ability to absorb energy from the sun is a dominant gene. A few flights above the cloud cover with an oxygen mask might provide him with enough energy until we can discover a way to desensitise his immune system."

"The mumps," repeated Richard.

"I can take him up as soon as he's ready," Clark said. "He'll need an insulated suit as well as an oxygen tank."

"We're scrounging a set up as we speak," McCoy said. "And not a moment too soon it appears. Annie has just texted me; Jason is awake and looking for his parents."

"The mumps?" Richard couldn't seem to say anything more.

With only the smallest twinge of guilt at using his powers, Clark raced ahead to Jason's bed. Ms. Ghazikhanian was zipping together the last ends of an isolation tent around Jason's bed while a boy his age spun on a stool, chattering about the latest video game.

"-- but if you don't blow up the tank, you'll miss the portal to the--"

"Carter," Ms. Ghazikhanian said in a fond but firm tone, "you're tiring Jason out."

"No, he's not," Jason said then promptly belied himself by yawning. "I just woke up."

"And you should be back in bed," said Clark.

"Kal!" Jason tried to lift his head, but had to settle for a smile. "How long've... you been here?"

"Since you got sick." Using the gloves built into the tent, Clark gently squeezed Jason's upper arm, their usual handshake ever since Jason became obsessed with knights and jousting.

"Carter says this... is a school... and that every... everyone here has... superpowers, too." Gasps interrupted Jason's sentences. Clark had to fight to keep his smile on.

"Yes, they do," he said. "Most of them can do things that I can't. There's a girl who can turn into dust and another that can turn into anything when she rips her skin off."

"Cool. What does...she do with... the skin after?"

Clark laughed. "You know, I haven't asked." His sensitive hearing picked up chatter and footsteps in the hallway. "You parents are here," he said, stepping away from the gloves to allow Richard and Lois some of their own time.

Lois cried out when she saw him awake. "Oh, Jason, honey, I'm so glad to see you awake!" She rushed to the tent and shoved her hands in the gloves, patting his forehead and checking his vitals, completely oblivious to Jason's embarrassed protests. "You're still feverish."

"Mo-om." Jason struggled as best he could which was to say, not very well at all, hampered as he was with weakness and medical equipment.

Richard came around slower but no less excited. "Hey, tough guy. You scared us for a second."

"I'm sorry," said Jason. Then his eyes brightened. "I thought you... had to go to Thailand."

"Not when you're sick," said Richard. "Besides, I've been to Thailand before and it's kind of boring."

"Except for... the internal conflict and... the hurricanes."

"Yeah, well, except for that. Uncle Perry'll let us skip."

With a wistful smile, Jason asked, "How long can... you stay?"

Those words must have triggered something in Richard because he shoved his hands in the gloves as well and wrinkled the tent in an attempt to hug his son. "As long as you want me to."

"Good." He yawned again.

"Go to sleep, honey," Lois whispered.

"Don't go 'way, Dad," Jason mumbled. "Have to... tell you... weird dream."

"I won't move," vowed Richard. Clark could see tears filming his eyes. "I'll never leave you again, I promise." He looked up at Lois as he said those last words. Tentatively, she returned it and Clark was painfully reminded of the first time he saw them together. It hadn't even been in person; he'd taken a picture off of Lois' desk and seen the three of them smiling, content. And once again, Clark couldn't do it. He couldn't selfishly seduce Lois, no matter how much he wanted to be part of her family.

Deflated, Clark excused himself to Dr. McCoy and Ms. Ghazikhanian. He slowly backed towards the door. There had to be a catastrophe somewhere that would take his mind off this.

"Hey, wait!" Lois's tennis shoes squeaked on the antiseptic floor. Clark paused in the hallwa, turning just enough to meet her eyes. He had to leave. He _had_ to leave. "Thank you," she said a little breathlessly.

"There's no need," he said, equally breathless but not for the same reason.

She gestured weakly at the ceiling. "Do you have to go... somewhere?"

Half-tempted to create a story about a burst dam, Clark shook his head. "I have to listen."

"Oh. Okay." She chewed on her lip.

He raised a brow.

When he turned his head, she grabbed his elbow. "Wait. Can I just... talk to you when you come back? Please?"

Willing every ounce of negativity away, he answered, "Always, Lois."

Never let it be said that Superman was perfect. It took long five years for him to accept that he didn't fit in Lois' life; that he never could. He could at least take comfort in ending the relationship instead of dragging it on until they both hated each other. Richard, Lois, and Jason were meant to be together; he was, and should have stayed, the favourite uncle. Look at all the emotional destruction he wreaked when he turned selfish.

Diving down under the clouds again, Clark filled his lungs with air and shot straight up once more. He wanted to get closer to the sun, as close as possible taking the radiation as strongly as possible and he could only hold his breath for half an hour. At that rate, he only got half-way to Venus before he had to turn around for more air. Clark welcomed the strain.

As soon as his body felt full, he flew back to Earth intent on finding something to do. Preferably something big. He had to take his mind off this decision.

* * *

_I'm hungry._

Richard caught himself on a side table as his vision went orange. _Well, good morning, sunshine. Nice of you to come back._

He had the impression of Scott making a face. _I had a little something to work out._

_Welcome to the club._

_Yeah, I overheard that a little. _Scott sent a couple empathetic memories his way. _It was partly my fault. Retreating must have tired out your brain a little, made you more apt to make mistakes._

_What're you talking about?_

_Your slip up with Clark's name and how Lois blew up after that._

_I guess we're even now,_Richard said with a little amusement. _Lois is the only person who'd be able to yell at Superman like that._

_She loves him;_ Scott said simply.

Annoyance twinged Richard. _Thanks for that reminder. I thought you were supposed to be on my side._

"Are you all right?" Lois asked, staring at him in askance. She'd returned from her talk with Clark half an hour ago, finally picking up brunch along the way.

Richard nodded. "I'm just having an argument with my tenant," he said, tapping the side of his head.

"Who's winning?"

"I am," Scott-Richard replied. Richard glared at the closest wall and contemplated ramming his head on it.

_Try it and I'll take over your body._

"If you do anything to my body, I'll--" Richard sputtered to a stop, unable to think of a consequence dire enough for the situation

Lois smirked. "I guess this is what happens when you can't work it out over football."

"Excuse me," he said, "I'm just going somewhere I can argue with myself in peace."

"Knock yourself out." As he passed by, Lois reached a hand out. "We have to talk. About... things."

Warmth bloomed in Richard's chest. Placing his hand over hers, he said, "I know."

_What was that?_ Scott demanded as soon as they left the med lab.

_That was me taking a step forward into fixing my relationship with Lois,_ Richard answered with great satisfaction.

_No._ Scott pushed at Richard's mind, causing a dull throb in the back of his had. _You are _not _breaking Clark and Lois up._

_Why not?_Richard asked, angry and genuinely surprised. _What about your whole let-her-make-up-her-own-mind speech to Clark a couple days ago?_

_That's not a fair comparison,_said Scott.

_Why not?_

_Jean could unmake things with her mind. Anything she imagined, hell, even a lot of stuff she couldn't consciously imagine happened because her telepathic and telekinetic skills were that powerful. She'd probably destroy Superman if it came to a head-to-head fight. We're talking about people so extraordinary that--_

_Okay! I get it!_Richard must have shouted that out as well because a couple kids on their way to the Danger Room squealed and ran the rest of the way to the elevators.

_No, you don't._ Scott sounded tired. _Look, I know how you feel about her. Jean is... was... I know you love Lois that much._

_But what?_

_But you don't need her._

Richard's eyes narrowed as he tried to understand Scott's emphasis.

Scott continued in a more reasonable tone. _If you didn't have Lois in your life, then what? You'll get rip-roaring drunk every once in a while, move to a different city and a different paper, take on a few more overseas assignments-- basically it'll be life the way it was the past few years._

_Just in case you have a different ruler for happiness, I did _not _like the past few years, _said Richard.

_But all it affected was you and your small circle of acquaintances. If Superman breaks up with Lois, if Superman got depressed, what happens? What happened the last time his heart broke?_

New Krypton happened. Or rather, the events leading up to New Krypton happened beginning with Superman's disappearance and culminating in the creation of a new planetoid likely orbiting the rings of Saturn right now. Five devastating years happened in terms of natural disasters and man-made ones.

_What did I do to deserve you?_said Richard bitterly.

_Hey, do you think I look forward to being around your head when this happens? It's a rank bitch. Your emotions combined with my memories and the next thing I know, we're in a karaoke bar on the border between North and South Korea for an assignment that we didn't really want to cover, singing Jim Croce ballads and hugging a bottle of bourbon. I hate bourbon._

Richard didn't deign to retort.

* * *

Richard was still making phone calls in one of the guest room when Lois found him. He signed off to Perry, snapped his cell phone shut, and turned to her with a strange smile. It was sincere but at the same time very... off. Lois was always the type of follow her gut instinct especially now that it had been honed by motherhood. 

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Richard answered too quickly. He waved to a bed. "Sorry. I took the smallest room. I didn't think there'd be much point when I'd be with Jason most of the time."

"No, no, I had the same idea but Logan told me the smallest room was taken. Now I know it was by you."

They both chuckled awkwardly.

"So," Lois said, twisting her fingers into knots and telling herself that she wasn't wringing her hands, "who wants to start?"

"Ladies' choice," said Richard.

She sighed in relief. "Okay, good. I want to get this off my chest."

"You've unloaded a lot already, why stop now?"

Lois stared at him, surprised at his tone. Richard had always been quick witted but his chides had always been gentler, his smiles softening the words.

"Sorry." He tapped his head. "I've got to figure out a filter between my mouth and his brain. Please go on. I'm listening."

"You've always been good at that." She sat beside him on the bed, an uneasy twelve inches away. She clutched at the edge of the mattress. Twelve inches when they used to curl into each other like they wanted to get into the other's skin.

"You're good at talking," he said. "We had a good balance going."

"We did, didn't we?" Then, quieter: "I miss that."

Richard sighed. She couldn't see what his face looked like-- she was too chicken to take a look-- but she could imagine it. He'd have wrinkles between his eyebrows, just little ones, and this white line above his upper lip where he'd be trying not to frown. Right now, he was probably pinching the upper button in his shirt-- yes, there were the clicks of his nails against plastic.

"I miss you," Lois quickly continued. "I'm not a complete blockheaded, big mouth and ruined love-life notwithstanding. Dumped or not, I wouldn't have stayed with you just because you were around when I was pregnant and I certainly wouldn't have gotten engaged if it wasn't for love."

"Lois--"

"Please, let me finish," she pleaded. She still couldn't look up. "It's like this: you're the best friend I ever had. Kal-- Clark-- Superman was this ideal. Who _wasn't_ in love with him? But it was... it was ass-backwards was what it was. I admired him then fell in love with him because he was... well, he was the perfect guy, really. Aside from a strange predilection towards Mexican wrestling costumes and a really dopey spit-curl, he was pretty damn perfect and any woman around will tell you if a perfect guy looks like he might even maybe look at you in a way that's sort of like falling on love, you'd better hold on to him like nuts because no one else is going to be like him."

"Not making me want to sleep at night, Lois."

She licked her lips nervously. "Sorry. It's the whole writing thing. I need to make drafts before I speak because it just goes on and on and I have to remind myself that I can't go back and erase it."

"Lois."

"Just hush for a second! I'm trying to tell you that I love you and I can't get it right!"

_Lois, you are an unmitigated idiot,_ she thought as she finally got the courage to take a peek at Richard. His shocked "O" turned into bemusement streaked through with anger.

"You were my friend first," said Lois, hoping to undo the damage she'd wreaked. "And then later on, I realised that everyone lied. There were other perfect men around besides Superman. But on the other hand, they were right too because once I realised you were perfect, I hung onto you as tightly as I could. And I know that I got all stupid and flustered when Clar-- Kal came back it was just so confusing and I never got the closure of saying good-bye and then there was the whole thing with Jason squashing a guy with a piano and then Kal wanted to visit and I couldn't say no to that all thing considering and then you took that assignment and everything just--"

Richard grabbed her hands. "I know," he said.

"You know," Lois repeated joyfully.

When you'd spent five years with a man, spooning in the winter, fighting over Leno versus Letterman, wiping snotty noses, and sharing shampoos, kissing him after a six-year dry spell really wasn't a hardship at all.

* * *

Somewhere in the South Pacific, Superman blocked his hearing by drilling a hole into the side of a volcano so that the lava wouldn't flow over the village.

* * *

_Richard!_

_Richard, this is not a good move._

_Goddamn it, this wasn't what we talked about!_

_Richard!_

* * *

Richard wrenched himself away. His breath came in ragged. Her kiss had been that wonderful. Fighting Scott's control was that difficult. What he was about to do was that painful. 

Slowly, he loosened his hold on her arms. Lois, her lips still rosy and her eyes still half-closed, let out a little sigh.

_Scott,_ he pleaded.

_Richard._

_Fuck you._

_You, me, Jim Beam, and Jimmy Croce._

"Lois, we can't do this." He cupped her cheek, willing Scott to take over the lying part. He could never lie convincingly to the people who knew him well. "We're in very different places now and, well, I know somewhere I'm going to have to share you with him."

"But we're not together any more," she said.

"You still love him," he pointed out.

Stomping her foot, Lois said, "Sure, I love him too but he obviously doesn't love me enough to even tell me his disguise after eight freakin' years together. I mean, what _is_ that?"

"Why are you so stuck on his name?" asked Richard. "He told you his name was Kal. And maybe there's a reason why he kept it away from you. It's like being married to a cop multiplied by a million."

"Where you like it or not, you'll be together forever." There was nothing fake about his bitter smile. "I want to be a little bit selfish about this. I'm sharing my son, my city, and my job with the guy. I don't want to share my wife."

"You never had to--"

"Yes, I always did," he said softly. "Plus, compared to him, I don't really need you."

That had to have hurt her. She drew back; Richard didn't stop her. "What are you saying?"

"He's alone Lois. He's the only alien on this planet. He's so different, even from mutants and for some reason, when he's with you, he doesn't..." Richard ran his hands through his hair. "I _can_ move on without you. I don't want to but I can. Him, on the other hand..."

Lois put a hand up to her forehead. "I feel like Ingrid Bergman."

"Only smarter." He cupped her chin. "We'll always have Hon's Chinese Buffet?"

Shaking her head quickly, she said in her more normal brash tone, "It's not your decision to make. I'm within a few blocks of middle age, y'know. I'm not that giddy little girl--"

"Lois, I doubt you've ever been a giddy little girl."

"Then why do you and Kal keep insisting on treating me like one?" She bit her lip against the tears, flinging her arms around his neck. "I love you, goddammit!"

He clenched his fists and jammed them in his pockets to keep from reaching out to her again. "I know."

"I love you and I love him and it's stupid and people would probably tell me to get over myself and just thank God that I've got two good men in my life and I can't stand it because it means I'll have to hurt one of you and, God, why can't one or both of you be bisexual?"

He might have laughed. Or hiccoughed. Either way, the action released the tension in his arms and he allowed himself to embrace her back. "I love you, too. And I... really don't want to think about the bisexual part." Richard kissed her, one last time as her lover. "Go out there and call him."

"There's a certain fly boy?" she said.

"Something like that."

She watched at him-- no, she _stared_ at him like she'd developed X-Ray vision too and was inspecting him from the inside out, from the soul out. Her brilliant little brain was revving at a thousand RPMs; he could tell that much but he had no idea what was going on in her head. He wondered if he ever had.

Richard kissed her again. This time, really, was the last time. "Good-bye, Lois."

* * *

Tuning people out was more difficult than focusing in especially when they were people he loved. Clark didn't so much tune Lois out during his rescue as he did focus intensely on the volcano and Jason and the banter of the demining units in Myanmar. 

When he landed, Lois was waiting for him in one of the study rooms. He'd never dreaded seeing Lois before.

She stood as he entered. "I need to... There are things that... have to be said. But I need to just mentally compose it first." Taking a deep breath, she looked skyward. Her lips moved and her eyebrows-- those rather bushy, expressive little apostrophes-- twitched. "Okay. I've got it."

Clark crossed his arms and waited.

"And I think it would be better if maybe we went somewhere--"

Clark scooped her up and rocketed to a small clearing in the northwestern end of the woods.

"-- more private." Lois took a look around. "This'll do. Okay." She took a deep breath, shaking her arms to get rid of her nervousness presumably. "I understand that I have to share you. I could never compete with the rest of the world and should never try. Please, don't interrupt--" she said as he was about to do just that. "I need to get this all out first.

He nodded, one hand slipping off his arm to cover her hand which was still on his elbow. She didn't pull away. How pathetic that he gloried in such a small thing.

"Part of the reason that I love you is because you're so selfless," she continued. "So what business do I have trying to be selfish, to keep you to myself, when that's the main reason I fell in love with you? Not just with Superman but with the day job. That's the one thing you can't disguise, you see? You're the _nicest_ person in the world.

"I also know that there are some things that you can't share with me. You explained that before but hearing it and knowing it are so different. I _know_ that you're trying to protect me by keeping fifty-percent of your life a secret but it _feels_ like a closed door in my face."

"I didn't mean for that," Clark said quietly.

Lois squeezed his elbow. "I know. I _know_ but my logic has this awful disconnect from my gut and, if you had't noticed, I have a slight problem with impulse control when it comes to my gut."

"I don't see it as a problem," said Clark. "If more people followed their gut like you do when something is wrong, there would be less work for me."

"But sometimes the gut instinct is wrong," she said. "I mean, look at Richard. My gut said that he was being a deadbeat when really he was just reacting to the fear that his family was slipping away and if I just thought about it _logically_, I would've figured it out but I was such a mess of-- anyway. Digressing. My gut said that you were hiding things with no reason but really, there _was_ a reason even though it's a pretty dumb one and you know that it wouldn't have worked in the end 'cause I would've tried to figure it out eventually."

"Which you did," said Clark, inclining his head.

"Which I did," Lois agreed. "And I was there waiting for you to give me this big reveal and we could have a laugh about what idiots we were dancing around the subject and then, I don't know, have a celebratory cupcake and pad thai or something. But it never happened. It never happened and my head just... _seized_ on the idea that knowing your real name was symbolic of your everlasting devotion or my importance relative to the world when I knew very well that it was a stupid idea. Logically. Pretty soon, it stopped being about you and started being about me and my issues with secrets and I was just so-- tunnel-visioned about-- it just felt like--- and then Jason-- Oh, God I'm losing coherency."

"You have my everlasting devotion," he said, or rather whispered. He still didn't have his breath back. Flying to the moon and back, he was okay, but the minute Lois opened her mouth, he hyperventilated. "And you're the first on my list of priorities, tied with Jason and my mother. There's nothing I treasure more in this world than your happiness and safety."

She only nodded, trembling as the wind cut through the trees.

Clark pulled her closer, wrapping her in his cloak. Not only would he warm her but he could speak without looking her in the eye. That was liable to make him fall apart.

"The secret identity was for my protection at first," he said. "That second year, it was for yours. But later, after we started officially-- after your divorce, my motive changed. I kept the secret from you for seven years, Lois. I knew how angry you'd be that Superman _and_ Clark both lied to you for that long. I was... I was afraid. That you'd hate me. And in the end, you kind of did anyway even without my revelation."

"I guess there was only so much of the sulky hostility anyone could take."

"That wasn't it," Clark hurried to correct. "Not completely. I knew you were unhappy. I knew that you weren't unhappy before we got together, when you were with Richard, specifically. Ergo..." He shrugged, letting her come to the right conclusion.

Lois' eyes widened. "You broke up with me so that Richard and I would get back together." At his nod, her expression when stormy. "Kal-El, you are an idiot." She tilted her head up at the heavens. "I'm surrounded by idiots."

"So I've been told."

"By whom?"

"Richard. Or maybe Scott Summers. I'm not quite sure." His hold on her eased as her tension did. "You can't deny that your life was less colourful before we got together."

"If I wanted less colourful, I'd be writing stock-market quotes."

"And Jason?" That gave her a pause. Clark dove on. "Twice he's been kidnapped to threaten me. That's two times too many."

"The first time was my fault," said Lois. "I was the one stupid enough to drag him onto the Gertrude, remember?"

"Yes, but--"

"But _nothing_, Kal! I understand about Jason; I'd've done the same. But you should've talked to me like this about your concerns instead of assuming that I'm too fragile and stupid to make up my own mind."

"I've talked to you about my concerns," he shot back. "You always acted like it was nothing."

Lois threw her hands up in the air. "Then there's your response."

Sighing, Clark, let his arms go limp at his sides. "Then we're right back where we started."

"Only with more arguments."

He watched her leaned up against a tree instead on on his body, rubbing her hands for warmth. "We'll never come to an agreement on this topic. You'll always insist on complete autonomy while I--"

"Would always insist on wrapping me in cotton batting."

Clark nodded. His heart thunked hollowly at his ribs. "This isn't going to work, Lois. Maybe if I hadn't left for Krypton all those years ago, we could have found someway to resolve this but too much has happened. I love you too much to let our friendship turn to hate."

With a sigh that was almost a whine, Lois returned to his embrace. She'd always have a place in his embrace as far as he cared.

"We're quite a pair," she said.

"At least, that's what the world hopes."

Playfully, she punched his stomach. "Ow." Then she sighed, releasing all the tightness from her shoulders. "Okay. I think you really do have to save the world now."

"There _is_ a four-alarm situation in Bulgaria."

"Go on then. Save the world. I--" Lois cut the rest of the sentence off, reddening.

Clark tipped her chin up with a finger and dropped a kiss on her nose. "I know." Turning, he focused on Richard's window a mile away at the mansion. The other man lay wide away on his bed, staring holes into the ceiling. "He's waiting for you."

Lois continued to hold him, burrowing her face in his chest, and although he couldn't feel it, he could tell she put all her strength in it because of the tension in her arms. "I always love you, too, Kal."

He knew that now. The knowledge would have to do.

* * *

Jean was taller, more angular and more muscular than Lois. She smelled like ivory soap and rosemary mint shampoo and her hair slipped silkily across his face instead of bunching and crackling like Lois'. Her head tucked somewhere in the sternum instead of matching up to his cheek. But the way she held Richard was familiar. When she re-entered Richard's room tonight and quietly wrapped her arms up under his arms, Scott recognized the shape of her. 

Scott made Richard focus out the window. He figured he could see Clark zip out to whoever needed help right now.

Richard wrenched his head back to the room. Scott let him, retreating into his little astral room. His mind was still on Clark and what Lois' decision meant but he didn't want to worry Richard with it right now. Someone here had to have a happy ending.

fin


End file.
